


Blackfire

by ScarlettSiren



Category: ATEEZ (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Death, Awful Parents, Blood and Injury, Dead People, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, High Fantasy, Hongjoong is a Knight, Jongho is a Mercenary, M/M, Mingi is a Mage, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Necromancy, San is a Cleric, Seonghwa is the Last Dragon, Wooyoung is a Ranger, Yeosang is the Prince, Yunho is his Attendant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettSiren/pseuds/ScarlettSiren
Summary: Seonghwa is an immortal dragon, ancient and timeless; the last of his kind…or so he believes. That is until a ragtag band of mercenaries, mages and knights led by the prince of a nearby kingdom mount an attack on his secluded mountain home, convinced he is the one responsible for the brutal attacks up and down the countryside.Imbued with the hope that he may not be the last dragon after all…but also concerned for the humans who have died to its wrath, he joins the crew on their quest to track down the beast responsible and put an end to its reign of terror. But in a world of magic and myth, things are so often much more than they seem, and the real source behind the attacks may be even more sinister than they can imagine.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 107
Kudos: 353
Collections: The K-Pop Storybook





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the fact that Seonghwa’s nickname is Toothless. Yep, that’s it. It will have influences from Dragonheart and BBC’s Merlin with a splash of some other Tolkien-y/fantasy genre stuff throughout. I never claimed to be original. For reference: Hwa in dragon form is about the size of Drogon in the final season of Game of Thrones. Big boi.
> 
> Fun fact: this is actually the first Ateez fic I ever started. According to the Doc I created it in early Feb of 2019. I’ve sat on it FOREVER bc of my other WIPs taking precedence and when certain other stellar writinys posted their own dragon!aus (which I absolutely adore with all my heart) I fell into that abyss of “why bother”. After sitting on it for a while, I believe my story is so vastly different from many of the others that it won’t be a problem. Anyway, please enjoy!

The court was uneasy. 

Yeosang shifted in his seat to the left of his father’s throne, casting a wary glance toward his elder brother, who sat to the opposite side of the king. He was stone-faced, his expression as unreadable as ever. He stared directly toward the doors across the room, his gaze never wavering. Yeosang swallowed and pulled his eyes away.

_Dragon._

The word had been whispered so harshly, like a conspiracy only meant to be passed over half-drunk pints at seedy taverns, or ones springing from the lips of bards looking to weave an interesting tale. Taken as a falsehood, surely, at first…even by his majesty the king. And then came the supporting evidence. Multiple witnesses. Scorched townships, buildings toppled, livestock killed…entire villages razed to the ground. Every man, woman and child swore on their honor, under pain of death should they be found in contempt. And the baron, the lord whose lands were being threatened by this great beast, had sent along a missive begging for the crown’s intervention.

The king had no choice but to take the matter seriously.

They convened in the war room…the king’s two sons and their attendants, his magisters, the court sorcerers, his advisors and the captain of the guard, along with another younger knight the captain identified as his squadron leader and predecessor. He seemed young, and Yeosang found himself surprised his rank was such as it was, given his age. He also had hair of pure white, which was not usually a natural occurrence, at least not among their people. Surely the man was fae-blessed, or perhaps favored of the gods. Yeosang truly doubted he could have been from the Great North, where such a hair color was common; his skin was not pallid enough to suggest he was.

The king sat once again at the head of the room, and asked what they believed should be done.

Pandemonium erupted as several of them tried to speak at once, shouting over each other. Yeosang glanced over at his attendant, Yunho, and grimaced. War councils were never a picture of the ideal, but this was truly madness.

Finally, the captain of the guard’s voice cut through above the others, deep and resonant.

“We must send troops to the affected areas and deal with this beast before it encroaches upon our own lands!”

“And just what do you and your troops intend to do, Captain? Dragons are immune to mortal weapons!” The court sorcerer snarled.

“It is true. Only magic can pierce a dragon’s defenses.” One of the magisters intoned sagely.

“And beside, an assault on the dragon launched from our townships would be disastrous. We must meet the dragon in a place which is to our advantage.” A second magister added. “Surely a tactician such as yourself would agree?”

The captain grimaced, but conceded the point. “Of course. But what location could possibly allow for an advantage against a _dragon?”_

“Every dragon has a nest. If we could locate this dragon’s hoard, we could launch an ambush.” The first magister said.

“How could we hope to locate such a nest?” The captain scoffed, motioning to the map of the kingdoms laid out on the table before them. “The countryside is rife with mountains. It would take months to traverse a single range.”

“Perhaps we already know where this dragon’s nest is.”

Everyone turned when a new voice piped up. It was Yunho, the younger prince’s attendant. Yeosang appeared somewhat horrified that he had spoken up, but the king turned to them both with a sort of amused interest, as though he were humoring him.

“And why is that?” The king asked, his words barbed.

“Ah, well, um…the histories tell us that the dragons were all wiped out during the great purge. All but one.” Yunho answered, his voice trembling a little. “After smiting the Wicked King, this dragon, he was overcome with the blight…the illness which had struck down all the other dragons, and he fled to the High Mountain. As he hasn’t been sighted since, we can assume his nest is still there, right?”

One of the magisters laughed, a cruel noise. “The stories you speak of are over a hundred years gone.”

“Are dragons not immortal? Surely there are those of his kind who’ve slumbered for longer still.” Yunho returned. The magister’s face twisted up, and he grunted his assent.

“And what is your opinion on your attendant’s beliefs, son?” The king asked, turning to Yeosang.

It distinctly felt like a trap.

Yeosang cleared his throat. “Yunho has…studied such histories quite extensively. I believe it is a viable lead.”

The king nodded slowly, turning back to face the others. “Very well. There is no sense in acting with the full might of our military when such tactics will do us little good against a dragon. _If_ indeed this dragon is not some conjuration of the townsfolk’s imaginings.”

Yeosang swallowed. It sounded as though he didn’t even believe them.

“We will send a battalion to the affected townships to rebuild. Yunho will be tasked with investigating his own lead. Take a small troupe to the High Mountain to discern the whereabouts of the dragon. As he is your attendant, Prince Yeosang, you will accompany him.”

Both Yunho and Yeosang froze on their feet. Surely he wasn’t serious… 

“This troupe shall need significant support, therefore, I ask that the Academy provide a mage. The Sanctum shall provide a cleric, and Captain, you will need to spare a knight.”

“I will volunteer, Your Majesty.” Said the young man at the captain’s side.

The king regarded him for a moment. “Your name and station, young man?”

“Ah, Sir Hongjoong, Majesty. He leads a small squadron under my supervision.” The captain answered for him. Hongjoong bowed.

“Very well. Send him along, if you can spare him.” The king said, waving a dismissive hand toward Yunho. “Perhaps you may consider a guide or two for your journey. The woods can be perilous after nightfall.”

Yunho and Yeosang were still exchanging glances, waiting for the other to offer some form of protest…or perhaps pleading with each other not to speak up and earn the king’s ire.

Yunho swallowed down the feeling surging up into his throat and bowed, nodding. “Yes, Majesty.”

“You may have the remainder of the day to make arrangements. Prepare to depart come the dawn.” The king spoke with another sweeping motion. “Dismissed.”

A chorus of “Majesty”s rose about the room, everyone bowing as they took their leave.

The magisters and sorcerers were tittering amongst themselves, discussing their candidates for the mission. There was hardly any time for them to make the preparations, however, and they were swift to leave the palace to return to the Academy and the Sanctum to fulfill the king’s orders.

Yeosang was silent as they made their way past the throne room and into the hall. Yunho was resonating with nervous energy next to him, and the moment there was not another person within earshot, he began a frantic tirade.

“Gods, Highness, I’m so _sorry,_ that was so foolish of me and I’m the cause of all of this.” He hissed, barely pausing to take breath. “I was such a _fool,_ to speak up during a _war council_ with anecdotes from ancient myths, surely I could not have sounded more an imbecile had I referenced _fairy tales,_ though I may as well have for all those stories of dragons are worth…and now you’re being forced to go along with me on this mission, I could hardly believe my ears when the king gave the order. If you wish for me to be whipped or stoned I would not even _protest,_ I cannot possibly convey the depth of my regret— ”

“Yunho, stop.” Yeosang cut in fiercely, halting to take him by the elbows. “My father would have named me for this mission regardless, whether you had spoken up or not. There was…intent in his eyes. He saw this as an opportunity.”

“An opportunity…for what?” Yunho asked in a small voice filled with dread.

Yeosang swallowed, offering a terse smile. “For me to prove myself. I am his second son, after all.”

“You needn’t prove anything, Highness.” Yunho murmured, confused.

“I must prove _everything,_ Yunho.” Yeosang replied, shaking his head. “I must prove I have earned the right to stand at my father’s side. I must prove I am deserving of dwelling within these palace walls. I must prove I am worthy of this life of mine, worthy of the very breath I draw.”

“No one should be forced to prove such a thing.” Yunho mumbled softly.

Yeosang inclined his head. “Yet I must. And this mission is the perfect way for me to do so, in my father’s eyes.”

They spoke no more about it, after that. There was too much to prepare. Too much at stake.

There was too much weighing on Yeosang’s mind for him to burden Yunho even further, most especially on the eve of such an imperative quest.

Yeosang left his misgivings to the wayside. They had no place within him, now.

***

Dawn came for them far too soon. Yeosang had felt as though he’d hovered all night between a place of sleep and waking, only for the sun to rise when he did not expect. Yunho offered him a pitying frown with his breakfast, advising that he would meet him at the palace gate before he took his leave to prepare the rest of their crew.

Yeosang made his way to the gate, finding a small convoy set aside for them. A cargo carriage, a half-dozen horses, rations and various supplies as well as coin. The young knight from the war meeting the day prior sat in the coachman’s perch, eating a pear and apparently entirely unaware of the prince’s approach. He was wearing armor of muted bronze in the style of the cavaliers; mobile and more suited for horseback than the full plate expected of a foot-soldier on the front lines.

When he spotted Yeosang, he fed the pear core to one of the horses and hopped down from the carriage, wiping his hands off on his pants. “Your Highness, good morning.”

“Sir Hongjoong.” Yeosang offered with a curt bow, motioning to the convoy. “Have we taken inventory?”

“Yes, your attendant, earlier. The…tall one. Yun-ah—Yunho, was it?” Hongjoong stammered. “He made all the arrangements. I can run through it with you as well, if you’d like. He went to fetch the others.”

“Please.” Yeosang requested. The knight went through every item with meticulous attention to detail, and Yeosang noted that they seemed well-prepared enough for the journey. The mountain was little more than a day and a half’s ride from the palace, and they had more than enough for the road.

“Surely we’ll find ourselves in prime hunting grounds along the way, so we may be able to supplement our rations as well.” Hongjoong concluded, snapping the cargo hold closed. “Highness? Is something wrong? You seem…troubled.”

Yeosang was lost in thought. He shook himself from it with a reassuring gesture. “I am fine, thank you. I appreciate all that you have done, and for volunteering to join me on this mission.”

He hopped up to sit on the back of the carriage, and Hongjoong joined him a moment later.

“It was my honor to offer my services.” Hongjoong insisted.

“This isn’t an honor.” Yeosang retorted hollowly. “It is a suicide mission. You should know that as well as I.”

Hongjoong frowned, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “I…feared as much, but I did not wish to…sully your spirits.”

“There is little to sully.” Yeosang muttered mirthlessly, his fingers absently playing along the reddened skin at his left eye. “My father has…always favored my brother. He is the eldest, of course, but I…well. I have been marked since birth. He believes that there is something…cursed about me. I would hardly be surprised to learn he wished to be rid of me.”

Hongjoong scoffed, shaking his head. “Nonsense. I cannot believe the king himself falls victim to such superstitions.”

“As everyone in the kingdom knows, my mother died giving birth to me.” Yeosang murmured, his hand dropping. “He believes her very blood stained my skin, that her death was mine to bear, that I should wear it upon my own face forever, as a mark of shame.”

“Hogwash.” Hongjoong snapped, spitting off to the side. “It’s all just…words. It means _nothing._ That mark upon your skin means _nothing._ I don’t care what the king thinks. He’s wrong.”

“That is rather treasonous of you, Sir Hongjoong.” Yeosang replied, though he was smiling.

“I will simply have to hope you choose to show me mercy, then, Highness.” Hongjoong responded with a cheeky grin.

“Sire!” Yunho’s voice called their attention, then. He had returned, as promised, with several others. “Apologies for the delay. The Sanctum has a rather lengthy ritual preceding one of their own leaving on a mission, and—”

“They’re all haggard traditionalists. Sometimes it’s best to just placate them.” Said the man to Yunho’s right. He was strikingly handsome, with sharp features, and his cheeks dimpled when he smiled at Yeosang. He was clad in the Sanctum’s signature white linens, which were embroidered at the hems with intricate magic symbols. “I am San, I’ll be your cleric. Well met, Your Highness.”

“Well met.” Yeosang replied somewhat dazedly. “Will this be everyone, then?”

Yeosang took in the group. Aside from San, there was a taller man with hair the color of fire. If that had not given away his propensity for the magic arts, his clothes certainly did; he wore the raiment of an acolyte of the Academy, robes of deep navy. There were two others, as well, dressed for the road. One wore lighter armor, several daggers strapped to his person and a bow strung across his shoulder. His black hair was somewhat long and parted center to frame his face, which was pretty despite the rather cocky look he was sporting. He stood closest to the other armored man, who donned full leather gear and a larger sword. His hair was equally black, swept back from his forehead, presumably to keep it from his face. He was built in a way that Yeosang would have described as _sturdy,_ and he had the utmost faith such a man would be an asset to them in battle. Perhaps just not against a dragon.

Yunho motioned to the man with the copper hair.

“Mingi, our mage. Graduated at the top of his class at the Academy. He comes well-recommended from the Headmaster. The other two are Wooyoung and Jongho. They will be our guides, and additional security when traversing the forest roads.”

“Mercenaries.” Yeosang mumbled, flatly not a question, but rife with disbelief.

“Lotta bandits in these parts, Your Highness. Better to pay us with your king’s gold to prevent another from parting you from yours.” Wooyoung said.

Jongho placed a hand on his shoulder warningly. “Youngie, we talked about being more respectful in present company.”

“What? I called him by his title.” Wooyoung grumbled, pouting.

“My apologies for him, Your Highness.” Jongho said sincerely. “He may seem a bit…rough around the edges, but you’ll find no better tracker in the kingdom, nor a cleaner shot with a bow.”

“No apology necessary.” Yeosang insisted, waving them off. “Well, then, if everyone is accounted for…we’d best be off.”

Everyone seemed to agree. Yunho and Yeosang took the coachman’s perch in the carriage, their two magic users loading up into the back with small bags of their own. The mercenaries and their knight mounted up alongside them, and with that, the convoy was on its way.

The king did not see them off. The crown prince did not, either. No one saw to their departure, no one spared a prayer or a wave or even so much as a second glance. The palace guards raised the gates for them, and that was that.

Yeosang looked back toward the castle as it disappeared behind him, and wondered if he would never see it again.

***

The first day’s journey was a long one. They took infrequent breaks, long enough to relieve themselves, stretch their legs and water the horses. They were able to keep to the main roads for much of the first leg of their route, but come the following day, they would be forced to take the more treacherous mountain pass which hardly saw travelers of any great number.

A crackling fire kept them warm as the sun sank beneath the horizon, a robust flame conjured by their mage. It seemed to take him little effort; a mere wave of his hand, dismissive, almost, and the kindling which had been arranged by Jongho went up in a blaze of heat.

Mingi was a prodigy, surely. Perhaps a little cocksure, a little difficult to read…but he was clearly not lacking in skill. Yeosang wondered if his magic could truly best a dragon.

They ate together in relative silence, though Yeosang was surprised to find no barbed quips asking if he missed finer meals in great halls upon golden platters and silver cutlery. Truth be told, he did not. He felt no less welcome surrounded mostly by strangers than he did sitting across from his father and brother.

When everyone was finished, Hongjoong took up their scraps, looking to dispose of them away from the camp. He nearly tripped over a large root, cursing under his breath, and San giggled before swishing his hand upward. Dozens of small motes of pure white light began floating all across the camp, illuminating his way.

“Thank you, cleric.” Hongjoong murmured, continuing on his way.

“Anything for you, sir knight.” San cooed teasingly, grinning to himself.

Mingi became amused by the show of lights, waving a hand. The small figure of a dragon, conjured from flame and light, floated through the air around them at his will. With an elegant twist of his fingers, it soared around the lights, dipping and twirling and diving among them.

“Can’t remember the last time I saw magic so freely demonstrated.” Jongho said in a tone not unlike appreciation. “So many of the elder mages, they scoff and claim we reduce their accomplishments to parlor tricks and mere amusements. But what is the point of having such skill if you hide it away, only revealing it in situations you deem worthy?”

“I’ve never believed in hiding it.” Mingi told him, letting his small approximation of a dragon swirl around Jongho’s head like a fiery halo for a moment. “The young ones back home used to love watching me, even when I could do little more than conjure balls of light. There’s something about their genuine joy. You’ve got a little bit of it on your own face, now, mercenary.”

Jongho chuckled, shaking his head. “I suppose I do. I can’t say I’ve seen much magic.”

“We’ll need more than pretty conjurations where we’re going.” Wooyoung spoke up, his tone dark.

“Don’t worry. I know precisely what is needed.” Mingi quipped back, smirking.

Yeosang let out a slow breath as Hongjoong returned to the camp, taking the seat nearest him once more. “Am I to assume, then, you have all been apprised of just what our mission entails?”

A hum of agreement rose from the party.

“Tracking down the last dragon, who allegedly lives deep within the High Mountain.” San piped up in a somewhat dramatic tone. “Which, may I just say, _hardly_ seems the kind of mission to assign the crown prince.”

“I am not the crown prince.” Yeosang corrected. “I am the king’s second son.”

“Regardless. It seems foolish to me.” San retorted shamelessly. “But don’t you worry. Never have more magical hands graced the Sanctum than mine. Were you to come to great harm under my care, I would sooner drag you back through death’s door than allow you to perish.”

“Those are a lot of fancy words for ‘I am begging for the chance to dabble in necromancy’.” Mingi quipped.

San gawped, appearing scandalized. “Necromancy? Such arts are _forbidden,_ I’ll remind you.”

“I know.” Mingi said, rolling his eyes.

After a moment, San spoke again. “So, then, given that, how important must a subject be before such practices would simply be…overlooked?”

“San!” Mingi gasped.

“I jest!” San assured, though the look on his face suggested otherwise. “I was only dealing in speculation. Hypotheticals. I would never _truly…_ well. Perhaps for the king. If I were granted immunity. Hypothetically.”

“I feel very safe.” Yunho said in a rather forced tone, and Yeosang chuckled.

“Our crew is a small one.” Hongjoong noted, his voice somewhat grave. “I do not believe we are expected to slay the dragon ourselves…merely confirm his whereabouts and return to the king.”

“But if the dragon spots us out…” San drawled suggestively.

Mingi completed the thought by allowing his little dragon conjuration to fly into the fire, sending it blazing upward for a short moment before it settled.

“Right. Burned to a crisp.” San mumbled.

“Dragons were not always cruel toward humans.” Yunho spoke up, his fingertips playing at the edge of his own tunic. “The legends say there were once knights who rode dragons into battle…that humans could even be beloved to them. But much of that trust was broken after the purge began.”

“Dragons were the catalyst for many rebellions and uprisings against wicked and tyrannical kings.” Yeosang affirmed. “They gave citizens the power to rise up against their rulers if they were cruel. Dragons did not bow to the whims of powerful men. They listened to the will of the people.”

“One of my ancestors was a dragon rider. My grandfather’s grandfather.” Hongjoong said. “Always regarded them highly…not as beasts or as monsters.”

“So then our dragon…might be reasonable, right?” San asked.

Mingi made a doubtful noise. “Perhaps in the days of old. But this dragon we seek has been ravaging the countryside, remember?”

San grunted, pouting.

“Not to mention that the purge must be the dragon’s last memory of humans. Wicked mages seeking to wipe them out, killing all the other dragons with a horrible, terrifying blight.” Yunho added. “Who could blame the dragon for being angry?”

“But why sleep for a hundred years, then decide to wake up and go on a rampage?” Wooyoung reasoned. “Doesn’t it seem strange?”

Jongho nodded. “I agree that it does seem…a bit unusual.”

“Dragons were known to sleep for many decades.” Yunho replied. “The dragon could have been healing, or even mourning. Time was—is—different for them. They were said to be immortal. What’s a hundred years to a creature who cannot die?”

“Mm. True enough.” Jongho agreed.

“If this dragon has been healing, or mourning, for all these years, awaking now and seeking revenge doesn’t seem all that unreasonable.” Hongjoong admitted. “Especially after the purge.”

“The mages’ greatest sin.” San intoned, like a lesson ingrained from repetition. “The mages who created the spell were part of a terrible cult known as the Order of Twilight. They were wiped out in retaliation for their crimes, and the spell was outlawed.”

“But isn’t it one of the only things that can kill a dragon?” Jongho asked.

Yunho nodded. “Other magic is not very effective against older dragons. Younger ones can be felled by simple spells. But the blight is the most effective way to slay a dragon.”

Wooyoung scoffed. “And let me guess, our mage doesn’t possess that kind of magic?”

“The blight is a…necrotic curse. It kills from the inside, rotting the victim until their body gives out. It is a forbidden art known only to those who would flirt with wicked magicks. Necromancy among them.” Mingi explained, casting a meaningful glance toward San.

“I have learned no such art.” He insisted, scoffing. “My interests lie only in healing and defensive magicks.”

“What is necromancy but a healing performed too late?” Wooyoung quipped, earning a laugh from the party.

“Ah, we’ve a secret jester among us, I see.” San teased, smirking at the mercenary. “You speak so seldom that I believed you must not have much of merit to say, and yet, you offer us such fine humor.”

“Perhaps humor is not as practical as your floating lights, but I can keep a crowd amused.” Wooyoung replied with a sly glare. “I can also have a blade to your neck before you’ve managed to blink.”

“Don’t presume to threaten me with a good time.” San retorted, winking at him.

Wooyoung seemed taken aback by that, scoffing. “Oh, you’re a quick one. Don’t you clerics take vows of chastity? Perhaps you should be mindful of that tongue of yours.”

“Such vows are _quite_ ancient history. _You_ are welcome to mind my tongue any way you please…” San replied suggestively, biting his own lip.

Wooyoung choked, though there was a sort of fiery look in his eyes when Jongho cleared his throat and spoke up to break the tension.

“Easy, Youngie.”

“Well, then, we’d best try to get some sleep.” Hongjoong cut in a bit awkwardly. “It would be best if someone remained awake for watch…in case there are any predators lurking about in the night.”

“I will take the first watch.” Wooyoung volunteered in a dark sort of tone, standing and kicking dirt into the fire to snuff it out. “Jongho, you may relieve me. Argue the rest among yourselves.”

“He’s…not the most personable among strangers. He’ll come around.” Jongho assured.

“No, it’s quite fine. He was not hired for his niceties.” Yeosang replied with an uneasy smile.

“I will take watch after you, Jongho.” Hongjoong volunteered. “Then perhaps our mage or cleric will take the final watch?”

“I’ll take it.” Mingi muttered, raising a hand. “But I expect to nap in the carriage come the morning.”

Yunho laughed at that, covering his mouth bashfully when Yeosang gave him a look.

The night was quiet. Yeosang found it hard to find sleep outside the familiar walls of his palace, but Yunho snored blissfully nearby, and it almost brought him a certain comfort that he could sleep so soundly. The only other noise came from the chorus of insects and gentle calls of owls seeking out their prey. Eventually, they lulled him to sleep.

When Jongho awoke, he was certain he was already meant to have relieved Wooyoung of his watch. He found it strange that Wooyoung hadn’t come to wake him yet. He retrieved his sword and clambered out of his bedroll, quietly leaving the camp to go in search of him.

It did not take long to find him. He could hear him murmuring past a thin line of trees, which was unusual, as Jongho had never known him to talk much at all around strangers, let alone to himself.

It soon became apparent why, however. The first words he managed to hear clearly as he broke past the last line of trees was, “What, cleric…have you not already had your fill of me?”

Jongho came around a large sycamore to find Wooyoung several paces away with none other than San pinned to the trunk of yet another tree, mouthing at the cleric’s neck. Both of them were in a rather unruly state of dress, and Jongho let out a strangled sort of sound.

Both of them turned to him, wide-eyed and stricken with panic.

“Really, Youngie?” Jongho hissed incredulously. “We were hired to do a job, not to _fraternize—_ ”

“I’ll do my job just fine.” Wooyoung insisted, letting San down, who quickly got to work rearranging his robes, his face turning a brilliant shade of scarlet.

“We will discuss this later.” Jongho growled, still keeping his voice low. “Both of you return to camp for now and get some sleep. _Separately!”_

“Fine, fine.” Wooyoung mumbled dismissively, waving him off. San followed behind him, studiously avoiding Jongho’s gaze.

It was going to be a long journey.


	2. Chapter 2

When the dawn came, the party was off.

Mingi made good on his promise of napping in the carriage after taking the last watch, though his sleep was marred by the rather bumpy terrain. San, as well, seemed somewhat uncomfortable seated amongst the cargo, but eventually found comfort by padding the harsh wood with his bedroll. Jongho appeared to notice and gave Wooyoung a withering glance, but Yeosang couldn’t discern just what the bowman had done to earn it.

Sleeping was impossible after the troupe made their way up along the mountain pass, where the roads were rife with jagged stones and nearly too narrow to allow the cart to pass. Mingi was forced to create a path for them with his magic more than once, and Yeosang was only spared the fear of falling over that sheer cliff face by the reassurances of their cleric.

When they finally reached a small plateau in the mountainside, it was evident that everyone needed a break. They took a moment to stretch their legs and allow their nerves to settle. Yunho busied himself watering the horses from the canteens, which was a bit of a mess before Mingi went over to help him, using his magic to allow the water to rest in a floating basin made of light. Yunho chuckled a bit bashfully for not having thought to ask the mage for help, but Mingi dismissed his concerns, the two of them patting the horses while they rested.

Yeosang’s legs were trembling as he stood, climbing down from the coachman’s perch warily once all the others had dispersed. He seemed to overestimate his ability, however, and fell quite unceremoniously as he tried to step down off the final step. He surely would have injured himself, or at least his pride, had Jongho not seen him and rushed over just in time to catch him.

“Careful, Highness.” He told him gently, helping him to his feet but not letting him go. He could feel the way the prince was trembling, still uneasy on his feet. “The height, it can get to some people. Not just the fear, but…the air. It’s thinner up here. Try to breathe slow and deep.”

Yeosang nodded shakily, letting Jongho lead him to the back of the convoy to sit again for a moment. The mercenary did not release him until he was safely perched upon the back edge of the carriage, though he still watched him carefully even as he let him go.

“Thank you.” Yeosang murmured, willing his voice to remain even. “I’m not certain what’s come over me…perhaps I am more fearful of high points than I knew.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.” Jongho assured. “Here, you should eat something. It’ll help if you feel faint.”

Jongho retrieved for him some jerky and dried fruits, and although Yeosang’s stomach felt too uneasy to eat, he did so regardless if only to appease the other.

“Thank you once more.” Yeosang said in a tone that was almost hollowly amused. “You are taking this job rather seriously, hm? Ensuring my safety? Surely that is my knight’s job, primarily, hm?”

Hongjoong, however, was a little ways off, checking the horses’ shoes for any pebbles and dislodging the ones he found. He did not appear to notice Yeosang in the slightest.

“He seems busy.” Jongho replied with an amiable grin. “And beside, I couldn’t let such a prestigious duty slip away. It isn’t every day that one has the honor of protecting the king’s son.”

Yeosang frowned, staring at his hands where they sat trembling in his lap. “I will tell you what I told Sir Hongjoong yesterday; it is no honor. This mission is a farce. We are following fairytales and rumors into the long-forgotten dark. There is no glory in it.”

“I don’t really see it that way.” Jongho said, leaning against the convoy and crossing his arms. “But…perhaps I’m a little jaded. A mercenary’s work is hardly ever honorable, in most senses of the word. Even if the mission is a noble one, accepting coin in exchange just seems disingenuous.”

Yeosang regarded him curiously. “You don’t favor your profession?”

“Truth be told, I always wanted to be a knight…to join the kingdom’s military and prove myself. To perform acts of great heroism and valor. To protect the kingdom…but life had other plans for me.” Jongho sighed, uncrossing his arms to lean against them on the edge of the carriage, his fingers flexing hard against the wood, as though he was nervous. “My younger sister was very ill, from the time she was small. It only worsened as she grew older. Our mother had passed from sickness, so it was up to me to care for her while my father worked. But he took an injury some years ago, and I was forced to find work wherever I could to keep the family fed. They’ve…both passed on, but after years of taking any work that I could, I felt too low to seek that higher calling any longer.”

Yeosang frowned. Mercenaries did not have the best of reputations, but Jongho seemed an upstanding man himself. “I have little doubt you could have made it as a knight.”

Jongho scoffed, waving him off. “Come now, Highness, there’s no need for flattery.”

“That was hardly a flattery.” Yeosang retorted. “Truly, I believe you could still become a knight, if you so wished.”

“Are you saying you would put in a good word for me?” Jongho teased, grinning.

Yeosang laughed. “Were that my word was worth much of anything among the court, I surely would. But as it stands, you would likely fare better never mentioning me at all.”

Jongho’s smile fell, then, a look of great concern gracing his features. “You surely don’t mean that. You are the prince. Your word must account for something.”

“As you can see, I am—just as you are—trekking up the side of a mountain seeking evidence of a dragon at least a hundred years since disappeared.” Yeosang reminded him. “My father does not regard me highly.”

Jongho didn’t know how to dispute such a claim, or how to respond at all.

“Hey.” Wooyoung called suddenly from several paces off, drawing the attention of the others. “I found markings along a separate path to the east. They appear old, but they seem to lead to a safer route through the pass.”

Yunho and Hongjoong looked to Yeosang, then, knowing it was his decision.

“If you discerned the path is safer, we should take it.” Yeosang said. “Thank you, Wooyoung.”

The bowman just hummed in acknowledgement before disappearing again past a large rock formation.

Jongho sighed softly. “Sorry, again, for him. He’s—”

“Not very personable, I recall.” Yeosang cut him off. “He tries well enough to find us a safer route unprompted. I see care in his actions; I need not hear them in his words…however few of them he may utter.”

“Well, he is certainly personable enough with our cleric, at the least.” Jongho grumbled, pushing himself off of the caravan. “In any case, we should be moving on soon.”

“Our cleric?” Yeosang murmured, confused. San was nearest Hongjoong, cooing over the horses and casting small healing charms on their leg joints.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself over, Highness. Forget I said anything.” Jongho dismissed, taking his leave to rally the others.

Yeosang knew he wasn’t meant to, but he pondered over that exchange regardless.

***

The path Wooyoung had found for them turned out to be quite the blessing. Though it was clear that the route was not traversed with any sort of regularity, the runes and symbols he had found seemed to be imbued with a sort of magic, allowing the roads to remain untouched by time and nature’s wrath.

“These aren’t in a language I’ve ever seen before.” Yunho had commented after closely examining one of the stone markers.

“The energy it’s emanating doesn’t feel particularly malevolent, though. Just old.” Mingi affirmed as he ran a hand over it himself. “Far older than a hundred years. Whoever spelled these pathways came long before the dragon would have.”

Yeosang hummed at that, considering. Hongjoong remained close to him, appearing more on-edge the further into the mountain pass they trekked. There was an eerie sort of darkness to the cliff faces, here…the stone a deep, deep gray that nearly seemed black in the shadows. Crags of stone rose like monstrous thorns to either side of the wide passage, and a sense of foreboding seemed to fall over them all.

Then, they saw it.

Carved into the cliff’s face was a towering archway, taller even than any castle Yeosang had ever seen. Open doorways led into the heart of the mountain, carved into the stone like the facade of a long-forgotten cathedral.

“By the gods…” Hongjoong murmured, awed and wary in equal measure.

“Did a dragon do this?” San asked in a small voice.

“I don’t think so.” Yunho responded distractedly.

They approached cautiously, halting the convoy a decent distance from the archway. The air was cold and silent save for the faint whistling of the breeze through those towering arches.

“We’ve no idea the condition of the cavern, so we should proceed on foot.” Yeosang suggested, and everyone seemed to agree. The others got to work releasing the horses from the yoke while Mingi and San investigated their surroundings.

“There’s something so strange about this place.” San commented as he ran his palm over a large stalagmite jutting up from the plateau. “It doesn’t feel evil, per se…but there is something…dangerous about it.”

“The birds.” Wooyoung said, his eyes on the cliffs. “There aren’t any birds. The air is silent.”

A collective shiver went through the company at the realization of just how alone they were.

“Birds are known to avoid predators.” Jongho spoke, then.

Yunho nodded. “It is said that the mountain forests near a dragon’s lair are devoid of all life. They can sense the danger there.”

Yeosang looked to those arches again. So then, was the dragon they sought indeed awaiting them inside?

He turned to see Jongho about to relieve his horse of its saddle. He put a hand out, setting it atop the mercenary’s to stop him.

“Highness? Is something wrong?”

Yeosang sighed, taking his hand away. “Jongho…I believe it might be best if you and Wooyoung took your leave of the company.”

Jongho balked. “What? But…why?”

“This mission is…well.” Yeosang swallowed. “We have reached the point at which your skills are no longer necessary, don’t you think?”

Jongho scoffed. “Is that so? And just how were you planning to make your way down the mountain and return to your kingdom without us?”

Yeosang’s expression said everything he did not.

“You…do not anticipate a return trip…do you, Highness?” Jongho asked softly.

“I have long suspected my father may have expected such when he sent me on this mission.” Yeosang admitted with a mirthless huff of a laugh. “Why else would a king send his youngest son into the wilderness, wholly unprepared to face a dragon?”

Jongho frowned, but his face was one of steely determination as he set his shoulders and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. “We were hired for a mission, Highness. We intend to see it through to the end.”

Yeosang sighed softly, his shoulders falling. “I will not pretend that I do not feel relief to hear you say that. But I feel regret in equal measure as well. A swordsman is no match for a dragon, no matter his skill.”

“Perhaps I will simply resort to scaring the beast off, then.” Jongho teased, and though he could not fathom laughing at such a time, Yeosang did.

“We’ll start losing the light, soon.” Hongjoong said, pulling their attention back. “If we intend to begin our search of the mountain, we should do so soon.”

When the others looked to Yeosang, he nodded. “Very well. When everyone is ready.”

He was not certain such a time would ever truly come, but they pressed on regardless.

It was almost disconcerting how little the light of the sun permeated into the mountainside. It was as though anything past the archways was cloaked in shadow. San raised his arms, channeling his magic to create light at a greater intensity from the little glowing white motes that floated around them as they entered the caves.

It was clear that this place was not simply something that had been naturally formed. The stone walls were carved into with perfectly symmetrical columns, metal fixtures hewn into the architecture throughout the space. This was not merely a dragon’s lair. At least, it had not started that way.

Yeosang glanced around warily. “What do you know of ruins such as these, Yunho?”

“I’ve only heard tales about them in myth.” Yunho answered in a harsh whisper that echoed off the cavern walls. “Legends say that the mountains were once home to cave dwellers, mysterious creatures with pallid skin and large eyes, who carved the mountains to their whims. Then, it was said, the gods created man, and later still, the gods created dragons, and the dragons made the mountains their homes. The tales no longer speak of the mountain folk after that.”

“I’ve heard many a tall tale in my days and that surely may be the tallest.” Wooyoung quipped.

Yunho scoffed, offended. “I did say they were _myths._ But they are often based on forgotten histories. They are all we have from the time before written language.”

“I can’t say I put much stake in tales about bug-eyed mountain folk.” Wooyoung mumbled.

“Well _someone_ carved it, and it certainly wasn’t in our lifetime.” Yunho said, sounding perturbed.

“Shh!” Hongjoong hissed suddenly, causing everyone to fall quiet.

After a short moment of eerie silence, a strange sound cut through the darkness. It was something like tinkling, or like small rocks tumbling. After a moment, the sound stopped.

Hongjoong motioned to San, then toward his lights. With a wave of his hand, the little motes expanded and moved outward, branching out into the darkness. They illuminated their surroundings, better allowing them to see just what they’d heard.

At first, they appeared simply as rock formations, glimmering strangely under the lights. But as the motes moved closer, it was apparent that what they were looking at was not the floor of the cavern at all. Rather, the cavern was filled with hundreds of thousands of objects. Rocks, pebbles, ore, unrefined crystals and gemstones…they stretched out before them like a veritable sea of rubble.

That sea shifted, then, one dune appearing to collapse and sliding toward them like an avalanche. The party quickly moved to higher ground, taking refuge beneath one of the raised stone walkways. San recalled his spell, letting the lights float close to them as they waited for the rocks to settle.

After a long stretch of a moment, the cavern fell silent.

There was a sigh of relief among the party, and with a nod from Hongjoong and Yeosang, they decided to continue moving forward.

But each of them was halted, then, by something else entirely.

“Who goes?” A voice bellowed in the darkness, deep and resonating with an otherworldly authority.

The party exchanged glances, dubious at best and panic-stricken at worst. Had someone else taken up residence in the cave? Were the bug-eyed mountain folk more than a myth after all?

“I know that you are there.” The voice continued sternly. “Reveal yourselves.”

For a long moment, no one dared move. Eventually, it was their knight who stepped forward, projecting his voice as much as he could manage.

“W-we, ah…we are emissaries of the will of the king. We bear you no ill will. We are on a mission, seeking the dragon who terrorizes our lands!” Hongjoong called back, eyes darting about the blackness of the cave with his sword at the ready.

The ground beneath them shook once, twice, three times, the dunes of rubble shifting once more in an avalanche. Growing closer, a massive black shape ebbed there before them in the darkness like shadows given form. San motioned with both arms, the balls of light surrounding them expanding and floating outward, illuminating more of the space.

Before them stood a towering beast black as pitch, with sleek scales and massive, leathery wings. The air around them picked up when it shifted them, cocking its head to regard them almost curiously with eyes of vivid green and black.

“I have done no such terrorizing.” The dragon spoke, white teeth shimmering in its gaping maw. “I have slumbered here for a hundred years. You are the only terrorizers I see.”

San let out a shriek, moving to hide behind Mingi. “Dragons can talk?! I didn’t think they could _talk!”_

“Only the old ones, so say the legends… you must be _ancient!”_ Yunho said in a voice more fascinated than terrified.

“Longer than all the winters you and your ilk have seen, _combined,_ and longer still.” The dragon affirmed, eyeing him curiously. “And just who does the king send as _emissaries_ to seek me out?”

Yeosang stepped forward, then, though both Hongjoong and Jongho immediately flanked him, holding fast to their weapons.

“I am Yeosang of House Kang, second son of the king. I travel with my attendant and a small company for my protection. We did not wish to…antagonize you.”

He was somewhat uncertain just how true that statement was, and the dragon seemed to see right through him, glancing at the others.

“A prince traveling with…hmm, let us see. His attendant, of course. Very reasonable.” The dragon nodded its head, almost to itself. “A knight, naturally, should you need protection.”

The dragon’s gaze grew somewhat critical, then, those vivid green eyes narrowing into slits.

“But you have by your side a cleric fresh from the Sanctum, an Academy mage and no less than two mercenaries.” The dragon accused. “This appears far more as an ambush, to me. Especially as you have come to me slinging unfounded accusations—”

“We accuse you of nothing!” Yunho spoke, then, trying to sound reassuring. “We, ah…well, you see. There were _reports_ of a dragon attacking the king’s outer territories. It was said that the last dragon lived here, in the High Mountain. We came to seek you out, as we believed you were the last. But if there is another, and you claim you are not responsible for the attacks, then you surely must be guilty of no such thing.”

The others seemed perplexed at Yunho’s pandering, because _surely_ he was only trying to appease the dragon…but it appeared to work. The dragon regarded him for a long moment, its muzzle twitching slightly in what may have been irritation.

“You speak reason.” The dragon said agreeably. “Therefore, I will respond in kind.”

“We thank you for that. Tremendously.” Yunho responded quickly, giving an uneasy smile.

“You are a boy truly wizened beyond your years.” The dragon said, moving its head down until it was eye to eye with him. It inhaled once, so hard that Yunho’s fringe ruffled up. “Mm, but of course. You have studied the old texts. I can smell it on you…the ancient magicks.”

Yunho gave a dubious expression. “Ah, no, I don’t… _study_ the magicks, per se. It’s more that I was, uh…in the room, with the texts. I don’t much enjoy reading.”

Yeosang gave an embarrassed sigh, his head dropping as he pinched the bridge of his own nose.

The dragon blinked at the man curiously. “In the room. With the texts.”

“I’m a royal attendant. I’m often sent to handle menial tasks in the archives where the texts are kept.” Yunho explained too-helpfully. “I often heard the scholars speak of the ancient writings, though. I’m quite knowledgeable on the subject of dragons, and all manner of legends of old.”

Yeosang groaned. “Yunho, please. Must you regale your life story?”

“Oh, no, please continue. This is all _quite_ fascinating.” The dragon replied in a tone which was impossible to discern. Whether he was being facetious or serious was anyone’s guess.

There was a long, tense pause before Yeosang plucked up the courage to speak again.

“We…apologize for disturbing your slumber… _great one_ ,”—He could have sworn the dragon raised a scaly brow-ridge at him at the obvious placation, but pressed on regardless—“As we stated, there has been a dragon spotted up and down the countryside, ravaging villages and destroying militia strongholds. Legend claims that the last dragon lived in the High Mountain, and so, we journeyed to find you.”

“And so you have.” The dragon intoned, thoughtful. “I am the last dragon…the sole survivor of the great purge which overtook my kind a century ago. But I have not left this place in just as long. If there have been claims of a dragon among your lands…it may be so that I am not the last, after all…”

“Survivors spoke of a great winged beast so large that it blacked out the sun.” Mingi said. “With a fiery maw and talons like spears.”

“They undoubtedly bore witness to a dragon’s attack, then, though I avow that it was not I.” The dragon replied. “Curious indeed.”

There was a long pause of silence wherein Yeosang did not know what to say. The dragon claimed that it had not been he who was behind the attacks…and the truth of it was that Yeosang had not expected to live long enough to continue their conversation further. He was rather at a loss.

After a moment, however, the dragon shifted, baring its teeth as the spines along its neck shivered in an almost predatory display. “You bring reinforcements? Have you an army at your back, young prince?”

Yeosang blinked, sputtering in confusion. “What? N-no, it is only we seven. I swear.”

The dragon regarded him for a moment, but his attention was drawn toward the upper levels of the cavern, where several figures cloaked in dark robes appeared.

Upon their chests a symbol was emblazoned in scarlet red, an approximation of a setting sun low against the horizon.

“They’re cultists! From the Order of Twilight!” San cried. “I’d know that crest anywhere.”

“The Order was abolished over a century ago!” Mingi reminded him.

“Well, they seem like a merry enough band to me.” Wooyoung quipped, grabbing for his bow.

Hongjoong and Jongho moved between the cultists and Yeosang, the rest of them closing ranks around the prince and his attendant. Their backs were essentially to the dragon, then, their attention fully on these strangers.

The dragon watched them for just a moment, and any concern remaining that they were in league with these cultists melted away.

The dragon stepped up behind them, looming over the party…but not as an aggressor. Rather, as a shield.

“What is your purpose here?” He growled.

“This does not concern you, dragon.” The man at the center of the small group of cultists said. “We are here only for them.”

“And just what did we do to you?” Hongjoong asked icily.

“You are meddling where you ought not be.” The same man answered, concentric circles of runic magic beginning to form around his wrists as he prepared a spell.

The dragon flared its wings, letting out a grating hiss of a sound. Even with the distance between them, the cultists’ robes fluttered in the wake of it. 

“We have no quarrel with you, dragon.” The cultist intoned.

“No quarrel with me?” The dragon balked in a booming voice. “You come into my lair seeking to kill these delightful new humans I’ve met, and you claim you have no quarrel with me?”

There was a sarcastic lilt to his tone that might have been amusing had he not snarled, revealing his teeth.

“Begone! Or you will earn my wrath!”

The hooded figures, three in total, appeared to confer with each other, glancing back and forth amongst themselves before finally coming to an agreement.

Those same runic circles appeared around each of them as they moved to attack.

The ones to either side brought their hands together, then pulled them apart slowly, manifesting mage bows: longbows made purely of light which fired arrows with different magical properties. When the mages pulled back their bowstrings, arrows which had not been there before suddenly materialized, blazing red with fire.

Their arrows flew, but Mingi stepped forward, raising his arms. The arrows seemed to burst into steam and dissipate as they reached him.

“Oh, fancy yourselves bowmen, do you?” Wooyoung quipped cockily, rolling off to the side. By the time he was back up on one knee he’d knocked an arrow, pulling it back and letting it fly.

The center cultist produced a shield to deflect it, though he barely managed to do it again when a second arrow came soaring at them a scant moment later.

The other two flanking him wasted no time, letting a second pair of arrows fly. This time San stepped forth, geometric patterns of light the color of ivory branching out before his palms. When he moved, they shifted at his whim, easily blocking the arrows.

“I think they _fancy_ themselves mages.” Mingi said, raising his right arm. Energy began gathering there, glowing bright cyan and crackling just above his palm. “I’ll show them magic.”

The mage grinned as he shot his hand forward, a burst of lightning erupting toward their enemies. The center cultist raised a shield, the lightning ricocheting off of it and striking into the wall above them. Cracks splintered through the stone as sections broke apart and crumbled, collapsing right above the cultists.

Mingi smirked, as though that had been his plan all along.

Their mage bows dissipated as the cultists were forced to run for cover, darting along the bridge which spanned across the far end of the cavern. Mingi was quicker, however, gesturing with another crack of lightning that blasted into the stone right in front of them, allowing them to run no further. When they spun around and tried to run back the other way, Mingi shot another burst of lightning to the opposite side, boxing them in.

But Mingi was panting, sweat dripping from his temples and down along his neck. Powerful magic was difficult to maintain in such rapid succession. He couldn’t keep it up.

Of all of them, the dragon took notice first, stepping forward so he was once more looming above all of them.

“Cleric.” The dragon intoned, pointed and meaningful. San quickly raised his arms, conjuring more of those geometric shapes which locked into one another, creating a protective shield around the party. The dragon appeared almost pleased, shifting his shoulders and leaning down on his haunches as his mouth seemed to curl up in some approximation of a grin.

The dragon’s ribcage began to glow with an ethereal amethyst light, traveling upward along its neck and throat until it released a blast of flame, black as ink and violet at the edges. It was no ordinary fire…the party recognized it for what it was: powerful magic known only to the dragons, perhaps known only to _this_ dragon.

The cultists quickly conjured a forcefield of their own, abating the worst of the attack…but the powerful magicks still eroded away their defenses easily, blasting through their shield and forcing them to scatter.

“I am the Blackfire, bane of mages and smiter of wicked kings! Those who would harm the innocent within my gaze shall perish in the burning flames!” The dragon howled, loosing another blast of ebony fire.

Two of the cultists were blown from the bridge, their bodies hitting the cavern floor with a sickening thud. The third maintained a powerful shield for himself and ran for the alcove from whence they’d come, diving through the small doorway just as another blast of flame slammed against the rock.

The dragon let out a huff of finality, and it was almost amusing just how indignantly it watched as the cultist chose to flee.

San dropped the forcefield, panting a little with the effort. He swayed slightly, nearly toppling. Wooyoung braced a hand on the cleric’s shoulder, appearing concerned, but San offered a small smile, waving him off.

The dragon stepped back and tucked in its wings, no longer looming over the party. Yeosang appeared to be in shock, a hand clutched to his chest as he tried in vain to get his breathing under control. Both Yunho and Jongho were looking after him, but when Mingi laughed victoriously before falling back flat on his ass, Yunho made a garbled noise of worry before grabbing his canteen and making the mage drink something.

“I’ll be fine. I might’ve overdone it.” Mingi admitted, though he took the drink gladly.

Hongjoong was standing next to the prince, but he was staring up at the dragon, a look of sheer awe on his face. The dragon eventually took notice, cocking its head toward him.

“Yes, sir knight?”

The dragon’s voice was calmer than it had been since revealing its presence to them, but Hongjoong still startled.

“Ah—I only, uh. Wished to thank you, for your help, dragon.” Hongjoong stammered out nervously.

“Don’t—” Yunho grunted, frowning. He continued in a whisper. “Don’t call him ‘dragon’, it’s incredibly rude. It is seen as a great insult among their kind.”

“Oh. I would have your name, then, dragon.” Hongjoong replied before realizing his error and grimacing.

Thankfully, the dragon just seemed amused, reciting something in the ancient Draconic tongue that surely no human could pronounce before letting out a deep chuckle. “However, in your tongue, I would be called ‘Seonghwa’.”

“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong nodded. “A regal name. _To become a star.”_

“Exactly so. Dragons are immortal…we have twin hearts which can beat for eternity. Even if our bodies die, our souls live on forever. It is said that the greatest of all the dragons become stars in the sky, shining down upon this world forever.” Seonghwa explained. “I fear that if there are dragons left in this world…if they have committed the atrocities you claim, then surely something has corrupted them.”

“I wouldn’t put it past those cultists.” Jongho gritted out.

“If they orchestrated the purge all those years ago, then surely they’d be capable of something that sinister.” San agreed.

“Very well.” Seonghwa said, squaring his shoulders and shifting into an almost regal stance as he nodded to himself once. “I shall join you on your quest, then.”

The entire company balked.

“What? But—what quest?” Yeosang asked. “This _was_ our quest. We’ve no idea where to go from here.”

“Surely you do. We must track down the rest of this cult, and the dragon who is attacking your townships.” Seonghwa responded. “And I will help you. If there is another dragon left in this world…I must seek them out.”

San cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Ah, not to, um, be rude, er, _Seonghwa,_ but the presence of a dragon would certainly not go unnoticed. How could we possibly investigate any leads with you traveling along with us?”

Seonghwa huffed in offense.

“To say nothing of your magnificence, of course! But you are…quite large.” Yunho added warily.

Seonghwa barked a laugh, then, his head dipping low toward them. “Then I shall not travel in this form.”

He turned, then, and with a single beat of his wings, took to the air. The others shielded their eyes as the wind picked up, but a moment later, it was gone. Magic of black and violet rippled before them like fog, and then the dragon was gone.

A humanoid figure with leathery wings descended from the epicenter of the ebbing mist, then, lighting gently upon his feet before them.

He had decidedly taken the shape of a man, but could no more easily be mistaken for one than he could in his other form. Hair of jet black was swept up away from his face, his head crowned with dark, twisting horns. His eyes were a striking emerald green with black at the center, his skin a pale, shimmering alabaster mottled with patches of inky-black scales. His nails were abnormally long and just as black, sharp at the tips. His face had an unnatural, ethereal sort of beauty to it, but the most obvious traits were his wings and tail, jutting out from his back and the base of his spine as though a human form could not possibly contain every bit of his draconic nature.

He was also completely nude, and appeared unbothered to be such.

“You can shapeshift!” Yunho exclaimed in a rapt tone, gawking in a manner that was not remotely subtle as he ran over and circled the other, appearing to pay no mind to his nakedness. “It’s been widely debated for centuries on whether or not that was a myth! Tales used to tell of dragons who would take the form of beautiful women and seduce knights before eating them.”

“Only the worst among us ate humans.” Seonghwa said, his voice much quieter in this form, almost more melodic. He moved his wings until they were resting over the curves of his shoulders like a cape. “By and large, we don’t enjoy food that talks.”

Jongho snorted. “Respectable standards for a creature with such large teeth.”

Seonghwa smiled, then, a devious and playful sort of thing that showed off his razor-sharp canines. “Well, we aren’t _animals.”_

"If you aren't animals, then, ah, perhaps some _clothes_ might be in order?" Hongjoong suggested, his face blazing.

Seonghwa blinked curiously, his eyes nearly crossing for how intensely he concentrated on the knight in that moment. "Ah, yes, of course. It does slip my mind that humans are rather averse to nudity in _this_ form."

The dragon pressed a palm to his chest, motioning downward, and black mist ebbed over him. It solidified, then faded as the clothing manifested. The clothes he conjured seemed as if they were created from his other form, from the scaled details on the edges of his tunic to the leathery drape about his waist.

"Will this suffice for the journey?"

"Yes, that's fine, thank you." Hongjoong mumbled, coughing uncomfortably.

“It will be too dark for us to travel anytime soon.” Wooyoung spoke up then, giving a cursory glance toward the cavern entrance. “We should camp for the night and plan to move on at first light.”

Seonghwa clapped once. “Oh, but of course. I certainly don’t expect us to leave _now._ You are welcome to camp here. Have you need of anything? I don’t receive many guests, but I have amassed quite a collection of…trinkets.”

“We have a small convoy.” Yeosang told him. “A carriage along with a half-dozen horses or so.”

“You are welcome to bring your supplies inside…but it would be best to leave the horses where they are. They don’t take kindly to places like this. It frightens them.” Seonghwa replied.

“Very well…should we also do something about…ah, them?” Yeosang asked softly, motioning toward the bodies of the two cultists which lay in the path between them and the cavern entrance.

“Yes, of course. I will see to them.” Seonghwa assured.

“We may want to burn their bodies.” Mingi suggested, finally beginning to appear less winded. “The Order of Twilight dabbles in all sorts of wicked arts. Death may not be enough to stop them.”

Seonghwa considered that for a moment before nodding. “Yes, you may be right.”

“All right, then...Mingi and I will assist Seonghwa with the bodies. The rest of you should handle the supplies.” Hongjoong said.

The party nodded in agreement, the majority of them heading for the cavern entrance, their cleric lighting the way for them all.

“You don’t suppose those cultist’s might’ve attacked our caravan before coming for us, do you? I’m worried for the horses…” San murmured as they passed by the bodies.

“Let’s hope not.” Jongho replied with a frown.

Mingi, Hongjoong and Seonghwa followed behind them, stopping at the bodies. Seonghwa almost appeared regretful, for even if these humans were a part of the cult which had slaughtered his kind, he still abhorred taking a human life.

“We should…move them out into the open before we burn them.” Hongjoong suggested, and both Mingi and Seonghwa nodded in agreement.

Mingi and Hongjoong carried one of the men together, the mage taking his arms while the knight held his legs, and Seonghwa slung the second corpse over his shoulder with ease, heading out of the cavern alongside them. The others busied themselves loading up on supplies, San petting and cooing over the horses while Hongjoong and Seonghwa arranged the bodies side-by-side.

“Shall I? Or would you prefer to…do the honors?” Seonghwa asked Mingi uneasily.

“I’ll do it.” Mingi assured, the dragon and the knight taking a step back.

“Very well then. In your own time, mage.” Seonghwa said gently.

Mingi nodded, conjuring a sphere of flame in each of his palms.

He never got the chance to use it.

Before any of them knew what was happening, a forcefield had formed around the cultists’ bodies. After a moment, it burst forth from them like an explosion, blasting the three of them away and knocking both Mingi and Hongjoong to the ground. Seonghwa was only spared the dirt by virtue of his tail catching him and allowing him to keep his balance.

The others noticed the blast, too, running toward the commotion.

“What happened?” Jongho shouted, appearing torn on whether he should unsheathe his sword or not.

“By the gods…” Seonghwa murmured, his mouth dropped open in horror. The two cultists were emanating a sickly black energy, shambling to their feet like puppets upon strings.

“N-necromancy?!” San cried.

“I told you I wouldn’t put it past these cultists!” Mingi growled, clambering to his feet. “The other one must still be around here…someone has to be controlling them.”

Wooyoung pulled out his bow, nocking an arrow. “Is there any way to track him? Does the magic leave a trail of some kind?”

“Not exactly. But he has to be close.” Mingi told him.

“All right, everyone keep your eyes open, then.” Jongho said as they closed ranks, looking around for any sign of the third enemy. “Protect the prince.”

Yeosang shrunk against Yunho’s side, wishing he could do something other than stand idly by and be a target.

The cultists didn’t seem interested in him, however. Instead, they manifested magic blades made of swirling ebony energy and dove for Seonghwa.

The dragon swiftly dodged the clumsy strikes, raising a palm to the cultist’s chest when he moved in too close. Black fire seemed to engulf the enemy, emanating from Seonghwa’s hand. He was little more than charred bones when he fell to the dirt, then, the necromantic energy draining away from him.

Seonghwa moved to destroy the other but San was quicker, jumping in front of him and laying his hands on the robed figure’s shoulder and head. He poured a surge of healing magic into his palms and the cultist’s body shuddered before beginning to erode away, the necromantic magic going with it.

“I’ve always wanted to try that!” San giggled almost gleefully as he pulled back. “It only works that way on the undead.”

“We need to find the last one!” Hongjoong said, his eyes frantically scanning the nearby cliffs, every rocky alcove, each shadowed corner and crevice.

“It’s too dark.” Jongho growled in frustration.

“I’m trying!” San yelped, gesturing for his lights to spread out and grow brighter.

“There!” Hongjoong shouted, the first to notice him.

Perched on a high outcropping of rock along the cliff face, he held taut a mage bow loaded with an arrow steeped in that same swirling ebony magic as before. Wooyoung turned and loosed his own arrow a second too late. It sunk into the cultist’s shoulder, but their enemy had already fired his own.

Hongjoong could see it was meant for Seonghwa.

There were a thousand reasons Hongjoong could have used to justify his actions, then…should anyone ever question him. Why? Why risk your own life to save that of a dragon’s?

Perhaps it was that Seonghwa was the last of his kind. Hongjoong understood the significance of that. He understood just how insignificant his own life was in comparison. Perhaps it was repayment for the dragon’s earlier actions, for fighting with them against the cultists when he had no promise of not being betrayed. Perhaps it was simply his own honor as a knight. It was his duty, after all, to protect the innocent. Perhaps he would have done it for anyone.

Perhaps it didn’t matter at all.

Hongjoong did the only thing that he could. He closed what little distance there was between himself and Seonghwa, shouldering him out of the way as the arrow found its mark.

Hongjoong’s own shout of pain was drowned out by the agonized sounds of the others realizing just what had happened. He hit the ground, grabbing for the arrow to pull it out—only to feel it dissipate in his grip like a shadow.

“No no no…get his armor off!” San was shouting, and Hongjoong felt himself being divested of his gloves, his gauntlets, his pauldrons, his bevor, and finally his tunic as the fabric was all but ripped from his body.

“Will he be all right?” Yeosang asked, watching in horror from a few paces away.

“I don’t know.” Yunho answered truthfully.

“That was no ordinary arrow…” Seonghwa said in a somewhat distracted tone. His eyes were on Hongjoong, watching as San laid his palms over his abdomen and channeled healing energy into him, but his mind was clearly somewhere else entirely.

“It isn’t—I can’t heal it. This isn’t an ordinary wound!” San cried, sounding panicked. Hongjoong’s abdomen was home to a single black mark, the place the arrow had sunk into his flesh…but there was no blood. The skin around the area had become blackened, too, as if stained with ink, and it ebbed out further every second.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of.” Seonghwa murmured as he knelt next to him, his thumb tracing over the blackened flesh. “I have seen this kind of magic before. It is the very same blight which slaughtered the dragons a hundred years ago. This arrow was meant for me.”

“I can’t heal him…” San murmured weakly, tears beginning to stream down his face. “What do we…what do we do?!”

Seonghwa thought for a moment. “There…may be something.”

“Go on.” Yeosang urged.

“There is a wellspring deep within the mountain…the waters there have ancient healing properties. I have been known to use them myself when gravely injured.” Seonghwa explained. “I can take him there. But I would need to fly us there, as it cannot be traversed on foot. The water loses its potency when it is removed from the well, so I cannot simply bring it here. Perhaps for a lesser injury…”

Yeosang blinked at him expectantly. “Then what are you still doing here?”

Seonghwa’s brow furrowed. “I…would ask for your trust, first. He is your comrade.”

“You have proven yourself plenty.” Yeosang replied, backing away and motioning to Hongjoong. “Just…bring him back alive.”

Seonghwa nodded, kneeling to scoop the knight up in his arms. Hongjoong let out a pained whine, eyes wandering deliriously until they met the dragon’s. They shared a long, silent look before the dragon finally glanced away.

“Make yourselves comfortable. The journey could take most of the night, and he may need to spend some hours in the healing waters.” Seonghwa told them before opening his wings. With a single beat he lifted off the ground with ease, heading deeper into the cave and shifting into his dragon form once he was at a safe enough distance.

***

The journey took some hours. By the time they reached the hidden wellspring, Hongjoong was in agonizing amounts of pain. Without their cleric there to abate it, the searing pain had spread across his abdomen and begun traveling upward. He feared what would happen should it reach his heart.

Before Hongjoong could think further on it, they’d arrived. The wellspring was massive; a veritable oasis that thrummed with magic. Tiers of gentle waterfalls trickled from the highest stone points, and the moss and mushrooms along the walls seemed to glow with magic, illuminating the space.

Seonghwa gently set Hongjoong down next to the water before shifting into his human form, kneeling next to him and lifting him up to help him into the water.

“It…may get worse before it gets better.” Seonghwa told him as he brought him to sit along a small rock shelf beneath the water. “I would ask your trust in this, sir knight.”

“Hongjoong.” He corrected, letting out an agonized hiss when a fiery pain shot up his side. “My name is Hongjoong. And as for my trust, you have it…if only you promise to end this torment.”

Seonghwa nodded, not wasting any time. He pressed the sharp claw of his thumb into the blackest part of his flesh, causing the other to cry out in pain. No blood came forth, however; there was only the tendrils of rot which eked out of the wound, dispersing into the water like ink. Seonghwa murmured an incantation, coaxing the rot to leave Hongjoong’s body. It obeyed, the cleansing waters purifying it until it dissipated entirely. Once the curse had been pulled from his body, the flesh of his abdomen returned to its normal pallor. All that remained was the tiny reddish lesion where Seonghwa’s talon had broken the skin, a small amount of blood finally beginning to trail out from it and into the water.

Seonghwa lifted a hand to his temple, using his claws to remove one of the smaller shimmering black scales from his own flesh. He pressed it into Hongjoong’s wound with his palm, uttering another incantation. When he pulled his hand away, the scale had faded into his skin, closing the wound and remaining as a darkened point there on his abdomen, almost appearing as a large freckle.

“Dragon scales were once hoarded for their healing properties…but only a dragon’s magic can utilize them.” Seonghwa explained, digging his claw into the area. Hongjoong was surprised he couldn’t feel it at all. “This part of you will be stronger than all the rest. No blade can pierce a dragon’s hide.”

“I don’t suppose you could arrange for more of those to be fused to my skin, then, hm?” Hongjoong asked, only half in jest.

Seonghwa let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “I would not wish to sully your beautiful humanity with such. Humans feel in a way which dragons cannot. You should savor touch. Cherish pain. We are not unfeeling…dragons can know pleasure, can know agony and illness…but not in the way that humans do.”

Hongjoong regarded him curiously. “How do you mean?”

“So often I have seen humanity turn its suffering into beauty. I cannot imagine a dragon ever doing that.” Seonghwa replied with a faraway look. It was a long moment before he spoke again. “It is a long journey back. You should find rest tonight, and I will return us come the dawn.”

Hongjoong hesitated for a moment before nodding. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but he imagined they were insignificant to a creature which had lived for so long. With a sigh, he made to lift himself out of the water, only for a clawed hand on his chest to push him back down.

“You should remain in the waters, to ensure all damage from the rot has been healed.” Seonghwa told him.

Hongjoong frowned. “I’m a heavy sleeper. What if I slip in and drown?”

“I will watch over you.” Seonghwa promised, standing up out of the water himself.

Hongjoong stared at him for a long moment before he finally responded. “I can’t say you’re…anything like I expected.”

Seonghwa grinned in amusement, lying on his stomach on the rocks next to the water, just within reach. His tail was curved over his thigh, the tip of it swishing gently to and fro in the wellspring. “Mm, and how’s that? Savage, bloodthirsty, feral?”

“Perhaps. Less…eloquent, surely.” Hongjoong admitted, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the edge of the pool. “Less kind.” 

“I am old.” Seonghwa said in a weary sort of tone, but there was a wistfulness to it that left it soft at the edges. “I have watched your kingdoms rise from nothing but mud and stone, and crumble into the very same. I have seen humanity’s wars, seen the way they evolved from blades and bows to fire and metal. Men are always fighting over the same petty, meaningless things…but…there is so much beauty in your kind, too. In the way a grieving mother plants a hundred thousand seeds in her late daughter’s memory, so they will bloom in her honor and the world will be brighter even in her absence. In your music, your art, your dance, and even your swordplay. What is humanity but a form of lesser gods? The gods created humans, I believe, to create. Humans are always creating. All that dragons do is destroy. It is all we have ever done.”

Hongjoong opened one eye, watching the way Seonghwa’s melancholy gaze tracked over the glimmering surface of the water. He spoke in a quiet voice, hesitant. “Legends said that dragons were created by the gods to remind humanity that there were things far greater than themselves. So that, should a great enough evil rise up among them, the dragons would strike them down.”

“Humanity’s wardens.” Seonghwa replied, nodding. “But after too long, we fell victim to humanity’s charms. Became their partners, their lovers…and the most wicked among them took advantage. Humans would ride upon our backs and feel as though they could reach out and touch the gods. And so, they thought that they could smite the gods and take all that power for themselves. They had to be stopped.”

“And then came the purge.” Hongjoong murmured, lost in thought.

“Mm. The dragons, many of us, remained vigilant in our duty. We struck down the wicked kings who thought themselves gods, who oppressed their people in the name of power, but we were massacred when the rot infected our ranks. Dragons driven mad by it, slaughtering their brethren, dying when their bodies decayed from the inside. It was a horrifying thing to witness. I nearly succumbed to it myself. Only this wellspring spared me.”

“And you’ve been here ever since.” Hongjoong said, almost a question. “Wasn’t it…lonely?”

“Unbelievably so. Yet, a hundred years is not long at all to a dragon…much like a year in your own time. Though I suppose a year kept away from the world would be trying for a human, hm?” Seonghwa replied with a melancholy grin. 

“Humans are the ones who slaughtered your kind. But you bear us no ill will?” Hongjoong asked.

“A small cadre of humans. Powerful, but few in number. Not all were wicked.” Seonghwa answered. “Humans had always been a source of great joy for me. And if there is one thing I have learned from all my time on this earth, it is that anger and hatred are blights upon the world. Perhaps I no longer have the energy to hate. Perhaps I have grown tired of the feeling of it. Perhaps I am simply too old.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation…you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

Seonghwa let out a full-bellied laugh that echoed in the rocky space, throwing his head back in amusement. “Ah, your humor’s always been better than dragons’ own, too.”

“Glad to be of service.” Hongjoong replied with a smirk.

“You really should sleep, though, Sir Hongjoong.” Seonghwa reminded him, coaxing.

The knight released a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. “Yes, I know. Sorry. I’ll cease my prattling.”

“I did not mean it in that way.” Seonghwa replied in a kindly, amused tone. “I’ve rather enjoyed conversing with you, but you need to heal.”

“Right. Of course.” Hongjoong replied, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Seonghwa, I…uh. Well…”

“Yes, what is it?” Seonghwa asked, his eyes alight with curiosity.

“I would thank you, for saving my life.” Hongjoong said, his voice raw and heavy with meaning. “We came into your home and disturbed your solace with the intent to kill you, but still you fought by our side.”

“Ah. There have been a great many misunderstandings between humans and dragons over the millennia.” Seonghwa replied lightly, grinning. “So long as each of us is willing to listen, I believe in all conflict, one can find resolution.”

Hongjoong nodded, smiling softly to himself. It was that hopeful thought which followed him into a restful, healing sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how long this will be. My goal was 3 chapters of similar length (≤12k), then it was looking more like 4 chaps (between 4-8k each) and an epilogue. But I split this chapter THREE TIMES so??? Let’s all just laugh at my inability to estimate fic length.

Hongjoong awoke feeling unnaturally light.

When he peeled open his eyes, the sun did not greet him, but rather the faint bluish-green glow from the mushrooms and bioluminescent plants surrounding the wellspring did. He was still in the water, and when he glanced down, he noticed Seonghwa’s palm was laid flat upon his chest, directly over his heart. Hongjoong’s eyes followed the limb to its owner, who was sleeping soundly on his side. He appeared almost catlike, his tail trailing into the water and his head resting on his other arm, which was bent underneath him.

When Hongjoong moved, Seonghwa stirred. He blinked several times before those vivid green eyes focused upon Hongjoong, and he smiled.

“You’ve awakened.”

“You too.” Hongjoong responded somewhat awkwardly, giving an uneasy laugh as Seonghwa pulled his hand away and sat up.

“I was not sleeping deeply…though we dragons  _ are  _ known to slumber.” He replied, helping Hongjoong out of the water. He seemed to watch him carefully for any sign of pain or discomfort, but found none. “I wished to keep a close watch on your heartbeat. I was hopeful that we had treated the blight in time, but left unchecked, the rot could have reached your heart.”

“Ah. Well, I, uh, I feel fine, today. Great, honestly. This wellspring of yours is truly quite something.” Hongjoong said, making a bit of a show of stretching with no discomfort.

“It is not my wellspring. It belongs to the mountain.” Seonghwa responded softly, looking out over the gentle waterfalls. “But she has saved me many times before.”

“Right. Of course.” Hongjoong glanced warily between the dragon and the waterfalls before speaking toward the water. “Um. Th-thank you, mountain wellspring.”

Seonghwa laughed, then…a lovely, melodic sound that was almost a giggle. “I did not mean to imply it was sentient. Though I suppose the gods have touched this place…perhaps we can still feel the echoes of them, here.”

“Precisely.” Hongjoong responded.

“May I…ask you a personal question, Sir Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked, his tone wary.

Hongjoong coughed, caught off guard. “Y-you may.”

“Your hair is white as snow. That is uncommon among your people, at your age, is it not?”

“Uh, it is, yes. Uncommon, that is. Was that truly your question?” Hongjoong replied.

Seonghwa inclined his head. “I suppose I was curious if you had, perhaps, been touched by the gods, or the fae…or if your people simply hailed from the Great North.”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “No, none of that. At least as far as I know. My mother tells me it’s been this way all my life. She insists I was never cursed or blessed by anyone—druid or fair folk or the gods. She always said it was a beautiful fluke of nature.”

Seonghwa hummed, nodding. “Interesting. Perhaps the gods deigned to bless you and simply did not seek any favor or recompense. They are known to act upon their own driftless whims every once in a great while.” 

“Right. Well, that would give me just another reason to thank them, if they were also the ones who made this wellspring.” Hongjoong said. “After all, surely I must thank  _ someone.  _ I have already thanked you.”

“You have.” Seonghwa confirmed, kneeling down to pick something up before handing it to him. It was his tunic, which the knight hastily pulled on. It thankfully only had a small hole in it where the magic arrow had pierced into his side. “And now that I am certain you have not traded your life for mine, I would thank you, as well.”

Hongjoong gave him a strange look. “Would you not have thanked me for  _ dying  _ for you, then?”

“It would be hard to feel gratitude under such circumstances. I would feel regret in greater measure.” Seonghwa told him truthfully. “Human lives are finite and precious. Do not throw yours away for me.”

Hongjoong scoffed, balking at him. “There are humans beyond counting. You are the  _ last known dragon,  _ Seonghwa.”

“That may be so, however…I stand firmly by that request.” Seonghwa squared his shoulders as he looked at him then, determined. “Sir Hongjoong, do not attempt to save my life again if it would be at the cost of your own.”

Hongjoong frowned, using every ounce of his will to tear his eyes away from that piercing gaze. 

“That is not an oath I can swear to you.” He said, his fist clenching at his side. “A knight is sworn to valor—”

“His heart knows only virtue.” Seonghwa replied softly, his tone one of melancholy understanding. “His blade defends the helpless.”

“You…know the Old Code.” Hongjoong balked.

“His might upholds the weak. His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the wicked.” Seonghwa continued. “A knight must vow to follow the code that is unending. A ring by honor bound.”

“How does a  _ dragon  _ know the Old Code?” Hongjoong asked breathlessly.

Seonghwa smiled, then, inclining his head. “The right can never die if one man still recalls. The words are not forgot if one voice speaks them clear. The code forever shines if one heart holds it bright.”

“You…a knight must have taught you. Y-your rider? During one of the great wars?” Hongjoong sputtered.

Seonghwa chuckled, shaking his head. “Sir Hongjoong, I was there when it was  _ written.” _

Hongjoong’s mouth fell open, but he didn’t utter a single word. Of course. Dragons were immortal, and Seonghwa had claimed he was older than their entire party  _ combined.  _ But having been there when the Old Code was written…that would have made him over a  _ thousand  _ years old.

“I have never had a rider. I have existed since long before your kingdoms rose up from little more than straw huts and stacks of stone to become the thriving townships and towering palaces you know today.” Seonghwa explained. “I was there when the first knights were sworn to the Code. It was just the  _ Knight’s Code,  _ then. It was taught to me with the hope that it would live on forever. That, should humans ever forget, it still could never die.”

“But you…you claimed to have struck down wicked kings.” Hongjoong murmured. “Did you not go into battle with a knight?”

“I went into battle with many knights. They rode upon the backs of my kin. Only elder dragons can speak the human tongue. Dragon riders often acted as tacticians moreso than soldiers in the heat of battle. It is…rather difficult to fight from upon a dragon’s back. I was not in need of instruction or tactics. I went into battle without a rider.”

“Oh…I see.” Hongjoong replied thoughtfully.

“I sense that was not the answer you were expecting.” Seonghwa said.

“It’s just…my ancestors were dragon riders.” Hongjoong told him. “I was raised on stories of the great bonds our people shared with dragons. How they protected the helpless, toppled corrupt kingdoms…I grew to respect dragons, I suppose, even never having met one. I always imagined what it would be like, though.”

“Would you like to?” Seonghwa asked.

Hongjoong cocked his head curiously. “Huh?”

“Ride me.” Seonghwa clarified.

Hongjoong choked.

“I brought you here last night in my talons.” Seonghwa continued, apparently oblivious to the knight’s reddening face. “Would you prefer to ride upon my back for the return journey?”

“I…y-yes, if…if that’s all right?” Hongjoong answered breathlessly.

Seonghwa chuckled softly. “Of course it is. I would not have offered if it were not.”

With that, he unfurled his wings and flew several paces away, hovering above the ground where he had more space. That familiar black, fog-like magic enveloped him, and before Hongjoong’s eyes, Seonghwa had transformed once more into his dragon form.

Hongjoong had forgotten, through the long night, just how  _ massive  _ Seonghwa was. He was imposing—intimidatingly large—and he wondered for a moment if he could even mount him.

When those vivid emerald eyes met his, now larger than Hongjoong’s entire head, the knight could see something in them that felt familiar. They undoubtedly belonged to the man who had watched over him all night, who had begged him not to give his life for him. His nerves calmed, if only just, and he approached without caution or fear.

Seonghwa settled low against the ground and dipped his head, allowing Hongjoong to climb onto his back. The spines along Seonghwa’s neck seemed to make the perfect hand-hold, and when he finally straddled him, Hongjoong noticed his feet were able to slip beneath them for leverage, like natural stirrups. The plated scales along the dragon’s spine curved beneath him and almost seemed to cradle him, the upper ridges making for an easy grip, like a saddle horn.

_ “Oh.”  _ Hongjoong murmured, fascinated.

“It’s as though we were built to be ridden.” Seonghwa said, his tone almost  _ proud. _ “You were made in the gods’ image, and we were made to be your companions.”

“I guess I always assumed there had been…saddles.” Hongjoong replied somewhat lamely.

“Rarely, for battle. To carry more weapons or supplies for the soldiers, if needed.” Seonghwa explained. “Hold tight.”

Hongjoong did, nodding pointlessly.

He could feel the way the dragon flexed beneath him, felt his wing joints shift as they moved, and with a single beat they had left the ground.

Hongjoong startled slightly, holding tighter to the dragon as he lurched up into the air, twisting elegantly around the various rock formations throughout the cavern, some of which stretched from ceiling to floor. He was surprised to find that, while the air did buffett him as they flew, it was not so intense that he feared being blown from the dragon’s back.

Seonghwa arced up toward the ceiling before looping back down until he was so low that the talons of his back claws skimmed along the surface of the mountain stream which fed the wellspring. Seonghwa seemed to glance back at Hongjoong and offer him a toothy grin before listing to one side, flying so low that if Hongjoong stretched far enough, he could touch the water himself.

Holding fast to the plated ridge of scaling in his right hand, Hongjoong reached out with his left hand, stretching until his fingertips glided along the water. Seonghwa seemed pleased, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but to let out an awed laugh as the dragon took a sharp turn around another stalactite before centering himself again.

“Wow…” Hongjoong hissed breathlessly.

“What do you think, Sir Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked, amusement in his tone.

“I think it’s incredible! Though it’s a shame I cannot see the sky.”

“I could take you there.” Seonghwa suggested. “There is a longer way around, through a crevice to the south, which would take us around the mountain in the open air.”

Hongjoong was torn. “I…but His Highness, and the others…”

“It would hardly extend our journey more than a few minutes.” Seonghwa assured. “If…you would like.”

Hongjoong sighed, tightening his grip. “All right. Take me there.”

Seonghwa surely smiled, then, beating his wings hard and banking off toward the south.

Away from the wellspring, the inner depths of the mountain was so dark it was a little disorienting. But Seonghwa seemed to navigate it with ease, gliding through the air and diving around obstacles that Hongjoong could not even begin to see. When it got a little too overwhelming, Hongjoong ducked low against Seonghwa’s spine and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the dragon’s movements and nothing else. It helped his nerves and his stomach settle in no time at all.

It was a while before they reached the crevice. Hongjoong spotted it when he opened his eyes warily to check if it was still black as pitch…and it was, save for a sliver of light snaking through the ceiling of the cavern in the distance.

“Is that—?”

“Mm. We’re nearly there, now.” Seonghwa told him, dodging a stalactite that Hongjoong could actually see, that time.

Hongjoong just watched that distant light gradually grow closer, until they were finally beneath it. It started rather narrow, but seemed to open up as it ran further into the mountain.

“Hold fast.” Seonghwa warned him before banking upwards and tucking his wings against his back.

Hongjoong tightened his grip, ducking his head to shield his eyes when the dragon loosed a blast of black flame from his maw, melting away the icicles that had formed along the snowy peak. Seconds later they were bursting through the crevice and into the open air.

Light flooded over them, and Hongjoong had to close his eyes completely as he was blinded by it. It was several long seconds before he could manage to wrench them open again, squinting against the overwhelming brightness.

Seonghwa kept rising, turning elegantly and unfurling his wings, the water from the melted ice shimmering in the morning sun as it misted off of the dragon in a glittering shower of droplets.

With three beats of his wings, they were climbing again, upward, upward, until they’d surpassed the peak of the High Mountain. Pale clouds hung like fog above the peaks and without even thinking, Hongjoong reached up to touch them.

They didn’t feel like much of anything…just a dense fog, and his hands came away wet. He glanced down at his soaked fingertips for just a moment before he finally looked out into the distance.

They’d caught the tail end of the sunrise, the sun still hiding behind a blanket of fluffy white clouds along the horizon. Light pierced through at the edges, illuminating the peaks in a white-gold hue.

Hongjoong was speechless.

They seemed to hover there for several breaths of a moment—Hongjoong was surprised to find that the air didn’t feel thin at all, to him, even so high up, but his heart was pounding and his head was spinning, so perhaps he simply did not have the presence of mind to care.

And then, they began to fall.

Seonghwa tucked his wings in, listing off to one side as they descended, rapidly gaining speed. Hongjoong latched onto that scale ridge again, but his hands were slick and he could not help the distinct spike of fear that shot through him, then.

They were nearly on top of the rocky mountainside by the time Seonghwa unfurled his wings again, Hongjoong lurching from the sudden jolt as they slowed, then rode the wind back into an updraft. He let out a rush of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and Seonghwa gave a deep, full-bellied laugh that made the dragon’s chest shake beneath him.

“Everything you imagined?” Seonghwa asked in an amused tone, strafing down the far side of the mountain until they were gliding around to the other side.

“And more.” Hongjoong answered with a breathless laugh of his own.

“Shall we return to your companions, then?” Seonghwa said, weaving skillfully around one of the mountain’s lesser peaks.

Hongjoong nodded, but he truly felt in that moment he could have stayed up there forever, reaching out and feeling as though he could touch the sky.

***

Dawn had come, and the rest of the party was growing more uneasy by the minute.

“Don’t you think they should have returned by now?” San asked, anxiously wringing his hands. “What if—what if Sir Hongjoong didn’t make it—”

“You cannot think that way.” Yeosang snapped, cutting him off. “Surely if he’d not made it through the night…Seonghwa would have returned to inform us.”

_ “Surely?  _ He is a dragon who owes us nothing.” San protested. “Kind though he has been, in a manner of speaking, we have only  _ just  _ met him.”

“I am certain they are fine. Sir Hongjoong is  _ fine.”  _ Yeosang repeated, frowning as he looked away. “Now, we should prepare a meal so that we  _ and  _ Sir Hongjoong have something to eat before we depart.”

San nodded solemnly, grabbing one of the crates to begin sifting through their supplies.

“You don’t suppose Seonghwa has some things we could use, hm?” Yunho asked. He was quite a ways off from the rest of the group, sifting through a corner that was piled high with a random assortment of housewares. 

“Yunho! Don’t touch that!” Yeosang hissed. “Don’t touch  _ anything  _ which is not ours.”

“But…why?” Yunho protested. “Seonghwa said to make ourselves comfortable, did he not?”

“Comfortable, yes, in the courteous sort of way.” Yeosang replied. “To say nothing of helping ourselves to his hoard.”

“I truly doubt that he would mind.” Yunho mumbled. “Seonghwa doesn’t seem like that.”

“Seonghwa doesn’t  _ seem like that  _ because we have only known him for an hour hence.” Yeosang retorted.

“Here.” Wooyoung said suddenly, setting down a large object with a loud  _ clang.  _ Yeosang nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound, setting a hand over his heart before glancing over. It was a massive bowl-shaped device made of darkened metal…likely a fire pit of some kind.

“The dragon truly has all sorts of things here.” Jongho spoke up as he joined them, carrying  _ piles  _ of fur blankets made from a patchwork of pelts. “We’ll be heading further north to reach the affected villages, and the days are growing colder. Surely he wouldn’t mind us borrowing some supplies.”

“He  _ is  _ coming with us, after all.” Mingi reasoned. “It isn’t as though we’ll be taking anything from him.”

“I feel this is a topic better left to be broached once Seonghwa returns with Sir Hongjoong.” Yeosang replied in a withering tone, rubbing his temple.

“Personally, I thought it made more sense to discuss ahead of time how to speak to Seonghwa about it.” Mingi said. “Even you, Highness, with all your tact and eloquence, seem to sputter when speaking to him.”

“You’ve got very little tact yourself, talking to a prince like that.” Jongho muttered.

“It wasn’t meant as an insult! We’re all a bit in awe of our new dragon friend, that goes without saying.” Mingi continued. “Which is why it only makes sense—”

A loud roar echoed through the cavern, then, and a large shadow loomed in the light streaming through the archways as Seonghwa flew through them in his dragon form. The ground shook when he set down in front of them some paces away, first upon his hind legs. He curled in his wings, setting his front legs down much more gently.

“Seonghwa! He’s returned!” San cried joyfully, jumping to his feet. “And look!”

He pointed toward them, and when Seonghwa lowered his head, Yeosang saw him. Hongjoong. He was  _ riding  _ the dragon.

“Oh thank the gods…” Yeosang said under his breath in a rush, composing himself as Seonghwa dipped low to allow Hongjoong to dismount.

“You’re alive!” San squealed in glee, running full-force at Hongjoong and throwing himself at the knight with an aggressive hug.

“I am, yes. I had not realized you cared so much, San.” Hongjoong replied in amusement.

“I’m a healer! I am meant to heal you and I couldn’t! I’m just relieved you’re all right.” San admitted, finally releasing him.

Behind them, black fog enveloped Seonghwa, and then he was once more standing before them in his humanoid form. He had manifested clothing without being reminded, absently adjusting the collar of his tunic.

“I apologize for worrying you all. The wellspring healed Hongjoong precisely as I had hoped.” Seonghwa told them.

“We’re all relieved.” Yunho piped up.

“Yes, very relieved. Now, please eat something so we can get going. It’ll take us a while to track down this other dragon.” Wooyoung said, motioning to the dwindling fire pit.

“Don’t mind if I do. I’m famished.” Hongjoong replied, jogging over to help himself.

After everyone had eaten, they packed up the caravan once more…including some supplies, which Seonghwa was eager to allow them to take. Hongjoong strapped his armor on while everyone was finishing up, and by the time he was ready, so were they all.

***

They had decided to head for the nearest stronghold which had fallen prey to the alleged dragon attack. It was closer than any which had not yet fallen to harm, and Yunho in particular had hope that they could learn something by investigating the ruins.

The trek back down the mountainside was far less arduous than their initial journey had been. There was a certain levity to their mood, despite the heavy burden of their new quest.

Surely the lack of a sense of impending doom was to be blamed, or perhaps Seonghwa’s hopeful demeanor had permeated through the rest of them. 

Being in the presence of a powerful dragon, one who was so reasonable, who treated them with kindness, surely must have had something to do with it, as well.

Seonghwa spent much of the journey seated in the back of the caravan with San and Mingi. He shared old magicks with them and questioned them on the current state of magical education. Things had changed quite a lot in the century he’d spent slumbering in the High Mountain, he learned. Yunho listened in rapt interest from his place in the driver’s perch, even as Yeosang nudged him in the side and teased him for blatantly eavesdropping.

The others rode alongside on horseback; Hongjoong taking up the left flank while Wooyoung and Jongho remained on the right. He was meant to keep on his guard, he knew, but Hongjoong could not help but to allow his mind to wander. Several times he caught his hand drifting to his own side, his fingers probing into the hole in his tunic to feel where that singular dragon scale was fused into his skin.

On the fifth time he found himself doing such, he shook his head, internally scolding himself. He needed to remain focused in the case of another attack from those cultists.

Regardless of their worries, however, they enjoyed an uneventful trek down the mountainside. It was past midday by the time they reached the thicker, more lush portion of the forest, signaling they were more than halfway down the mountain.

“We should take a rest.” Jongho suggested, and it was clear just whose condition he was considering from the way his concerned gaze lingered on the prince. He was clearly not used to such travel.

They halted the caravan along a small, level outcropping of cliffs, letting everyone stretch their legs. Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Jongho dismounted, the latter moving to assist the prince as he climbed out of the caravan. Hongjoong rolled his eyes. The mercenary clearly had his sights set on a knighthood, and who was he to interfere?

Hongjoong petted along his horse’s muzzle and whispered soothing kindnesses to her before leading her over to some bushes, hoping she would graze a little before they started up again. He sighed as he turned back toward the party, only to nearly jump out of his skin when he was suddenly face-to-face with their cleric.

“Gods, San! You startled me.” He mumbled, letting out a calming breath.

“Sorry. We just…haven’t spoken much along the journey, is all.” San said.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “I suppose not. You seemed rather enthralled with whatever magic Seonghwa was showing, though, and far be it from me to interfere.”

“Right, of course.” San agreed. “Speaking of Seonghwa…”

Hongjoong bristled, catching the lilt in his tone. “What of him?”

“Well, I just found it rather incredible, is all. He allowed you to mount him…” San drawled suggestively. “Perhaps one day you’ll return the favor and allow him to mount you?”

Hongjoong choked when the cleric winked. “San!”

“What?  _ I _ would let him. I mean, did you  _ see  _ his co—”

“SAN!” Hongjoong bleated, covering the other’s mouth. When the cleric licked his palm, he pulled away. “Augh! That’s disgusting.”

_ “You’re _ disgusting, with your goo-goo eyes and flaccid spine.”

Hongjoong balked. “My spine is  _ not  _ flaccid—”

“Then instead of taking offense, take action.” San quipped. “It’s a long journey ahead of us and I cannot  _ stand  _ to watch the lot of you pining after each other.”

“The lot of us?” Hongjoong asked, confused.

San rolled his eyes, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. Hongjoong followed the motion, taking stock of the rest of the party. 

Wooyoung was nowhere to be seen, which seemed to be the norm with him. Jongho was practically hovering next to Yeosang, eager to take on any task the prince set forth for him. Yunho was watching Mingi in rapt fascination as he conjured water for the horses, eagerly asking him questions about his magic.

Hongjoong’s eyes eventually found Seonghwa, who was standing off to one side of the road, staring up toward a tree and smiling gently. After a moment, he realized the dragon was grinning at a pair of birds that had alighted upon a branch there, singing sweetly.

Prey animals fled the presence of dragons. But with him in his human form, they saw no reason to fear him.

“See! Look at you, smiling at him like a fool.” San complained.

Hongjoong bristled, turning pink to his ears. “Yeah? Well…what about you? Hm? You were all but throwing yourself at the archer the night before last, as I recall! With all your innuendos…practically verbal foreplay!”

San smirked. “Oh, that ship has already sailed, sir knight. Sailed, made port and docked for the night. If you catch my drift.”

Hongjoong grimaced. “That was a very strange, yet somehow vivid metaphor.”

“My tongue is gifted in more ways than one.” San replied with a wink.

“And Wooyoung would know all about that, hm?” Hongjoong quipped in a flat tone.

“Oh, absolutely.” San drawled.

Hongjoong groaned, the conversation distinctly not going as he had planned. “That’s enough from you. Go and bother someone else.”

“All right.” San sing-songed, all too happy to skip off, directly toward—Seonghwa.

Hongjoong cursed internally.

He should have seen that coming.

Seonghwa appeared none the wiser to San’s nefarious ulterior motives as the cleric chatted with him. Hongjoong could not hear what was being said, but he could hear the wheedling, suggestive tone San was using. Manipulative bastard.

Surely Seonghwa would not fall for it—

Except, Seonghwa was—for all his wisdom and experience—the kind of being who would not assume the worst from someone who had given him no reason to. And so, he smiled and laughed and agreed with whatever San was saying. Because he was too kind to do anything short of that. Of course.

After too long, San was skipping off again to bother someone else, winking at Hongjoong as he went. Hongjoong felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach, though he wasn’t sure precisely what he was so afraid of.

His attention was once again called to Seonghwa, who had approached Hongjoong’s horse, cooing sweetly at it and petting its muzzle. He gently asked her why she hadn’t drank any of the water Mingi provided for them.

The horse, naturally, provided no answer.

Hongjoong swallowed, striding over.

“She, ah…she’s a bit of a prima donna, honestly. Refuses to drink from troughs most of the time, either. She must think she’s a princess’s horse or something.”

Seonghwa laughed as though it were stolen from him, as though the comment had greatly amused him. It was an airy, melodic sound that had Hongjoong questioning whether he had truly earned it.

“Is that so? Perhaps she believes serving as the steed of such a prestigious knight earns her just as much esteem.”

Hongjoong snorted. “I’m hardly prestigious. Just…a knight in service of His Majesty. And she’s just a fussy old girl.”

Seonghwa grinned, his eyes crinkling in a way that seemed genuine. It was disarming, knowing what he was beneath his human-like glamour. “The way you speak of her…you’ve been companions a long time?”

“Since I joined the military.” Hongjoong confirmed. “Only soldiers of rank, knights and commanders and the like, get to keep a designated horse. The moment I met her, I knew I’d have to earn the right to keep her.”

“You’ve bonded.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’d say so. She’s gotten me out of many perilous situations.” Hongjoong admitted.

“I have never ridden a horse.” Seonghwa commented off-handedly.

Hongjoong balked. “Truly? Never?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Rarely have I ever felt the need to take on a human glamour. And it is the only form to which riding a horse is suited.”

“Would you like to? Ride her?” Hongjoong asked almost hastily, fearing he may lose his nerve if he thought on the offer for too long.

Seonghwa gestured dismissively. “Oh, I wouldn’t impose.”

“No, it’s—really, you should try it at least once.” Hongjoong insisted. “It may be nothing like soaring through the skies but…well. A horse at full pace can make you feel as though you are flying.”

“Is that so?” Seonghwa asked, curious and amused all at once. “Very well.”

“Great! Ah, here, you just—grip the saddle there, and use the stirrup to step up, then throw your other leg over.” Hongjoong explained.

“All right…” Seonghwa seemed wary, but there also appeared to be some measure of excitement simmering beneath as he lifted his foot, sliding it into the stirrup and grabbing at the saddle.

“Be wary of your tail…horses are prey animals, and it may believe it to be a snake.” Hongjoong said.

“Right, of course.” Seonghwa nodded dutifully, moving his tail to rest along the back of his other leg.

The horse seemed to notice, however, fussing a bit and kicking up her front legs.

“Easy, easy girl…oh come on now, he’s a friend.” Hongjoong soothed, his voice becoming somewhat chiding as he continued. “I understand that he is a dragon, but I wouldn’t let him eat you, I promise.”

“Perhaps this was a bad idea…” Seonghwa murmured, taking his foot out of the stirrup and taking a slow step back.

“What? No, no, she’s just…jumpy. H-here!” Hongjoong gently stroked the horse’s muzzle before moving around to her saddle, making a show of getting on the horse himself. Once he was seated, he patted her shoulder before sliding forward in his saddle and holding his hand out to Seonghwa. “Just climb on behind me.”

Seonghwa eyed him warily. “Are you certain? I wouldn’t want to scare her.”

“She’s fine, I’m riding her so she knows she’s safe.” Hongjoong assured.

Seonghwa’s mouth twisted up a little, and he appeared unconvinced, but he eventually acquiesced, sliding his hand into Hongjoong’s and using the stirrup to mount up behind him.

“Tail.” Hongjoong reminded him softly.

Seonghwa nodded, shifting it to lie closer to his leg. But even that seemed to spook the horse; the moment the appendage slid over her flank, the horse glanced back. Seeing something large, black, scaly and snake-shaped must have startled her and she gave a distressed whinny before bucking up a little.

“Whoa, easy girl.” Hongjoong soothed, holding tight to her reins. Seonghwa startled slightly and wrapped his arms and tail both around Hongjoong’s waist, effectively bracing him and removing it from the horse’s line of sight. Hongjoong stiffened slightly before regaining his composure and trying to calm his horse again. “Easy, look, look, there’s nothing.”

He pulled her reins until her face was sideways, turning her in a circle so she could see there was no immediate threat. That seemed to appease her, and she settled.

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh of relief. “I apologize. I’m a terrible first-time rider, aren’t I?”

“No, she’s just a little skittish about snakes. Or things that look like snakes.” Hongjoong insisted. He raised an arm, motioning to the others that they were ready to move out. They took point, riding ahead with the caravan and the others on horseback behind them.

Seonghwa was quiet, though he seemed comfortable once the horse was no longer trying to buck him off. The grip of his tail and his hands on Hongjoong’s waist had remained, but they were far more relaxed than when they’d first taken off. He was a constant warm weight at Hongjoong’s back; even in his human form, he radiated heat.

“Very different from flying, hm?” Hongjoong eventually asked, just to break the silence.

“Certainly.” Seonghwa agreed.

Hongjoong grinned conspiratorially. “Well, we’re going a lot slower.”

He raised a hand, pulling in front of the caravan.

“We’re going ahead to scout out the area. Catch up with us before we make camp.” He called back to the others.

“Very well!” Yeosang responded in agreeance.

Hongjoong smirked, grabbing the reins. “All right, then.  _ Now  _ we can fly.”

With that, he kicked at his horse’s sides, and they were off. Seonghwa let out a soft noise of surprise as the beast lurched forward, tightening his grip around Hongjoong’s middle. Soon enough, they’d built up to a full-on gallop, the trees whipping past them in a blur. Hongjoong laughed, joyous and unbridled as they rode further along the winding road at the base of the mountain.

It wasn’t too long before they slowed. Hongjoong did not want to tire out his horse or risk getting too far ahead of the others. When they reached an area of dense forest where a creek ran through, he eased his steed down to a steady trot before stopping her altogether.

“Not so different from flying after all, hm?” Hongjoong joked, dismounting before helping Seonghwa off of the horse as well.

“Quite similar, yes.” Seonghwa responded in a teasing tone, letting his tail unfurl from the knight’s waist and dutifully tucking it behind his back.

Hongjoong’s horse was too distracted by the prospect of fresh running water to worry, however, and immediately trotted over to the creek for a drink. The knight rolled his eyes, chuckling and patting her as she went.

“The trees are so thick here that the road has been whittled down to almost nothing.” Seonghwa observed.

“Mm. We may have gotten too far ahead of the others, given we’ve no map to consult for guidance.” Hongjoong sighed. “Perhaps we should wait on them to catch up.”

Seonghwa nodded. “Agreed. I could…scout above the treetops to discern the location of the tower. That way, we will have our bearings by the time the others make their way here.”

Hongjoong inclined his head. “If you want to. That would help immensely.”

Seonghwa offered a smile and a nod before unfurling his wings and taking to the sky. Hongjoong watched him for perhaps a moment too long before finally pulling his eyes away, deciding to join his horse by the stream and wash the grime of travel from his hands and face.

After hardly any time at all, Seonghwa returned, landing softly in the center of the road and tucking his wings against his shoulders once more.

“The tower is due northeast. Only a few hours more of travel, by our usual pace.”

“I’d like to make it before nightfall.” Hongjoong grumbled. “It’ll be harder to investigate the area if we lose the light.”

“We have magic.” Seonghwa assured. “We can create light. And my kind can see just as well in the dark.”

Hongjoong shrugged. “I’ve always had a keen eye in the dark, compared to most, I suppose. But regardless, daylight would work in our favor.”

“I only hope that we can find something there which will help us on our quest.” Seonghwa murmured pensively. “And that we are able to reach the next stronghold in time, before it falls victim to an attack as well.”

Hongjoong hummed, nodding. “Our enemies remain several steps ahead of us…assuming that these cultists are truly involved, and that all of this is connected.”

“I would find it strange were it not.” Seonghwa said. “The cultists attacking on the eve of your arrival at the High Mountain…hardly seems a coincidence.”

“Do you believe they caught wind of our mission and followed us?” Hongjoong asked.

“Perhaps.” Seonghwa replied. “Or perhaps…they had been aware of my presence for some time, and saw your arrival as a threat to their plans. It is impossible to say with certainty.”

“No use in speculating blindly, I suppose.” Hongjoong sighed. “With any luck, our investigation of the fort attack will give us some insight.”

“Indeed—ah, I see the rest of our companions.” Seonghwa said, watching as the caravan and two riders came over the crest of the nearest hill.

Once they rejoined with the others, Seonghwa confirmed the direction of the fort in relation to the map, climbing back into the caravan for the remainder of the trip. Hongjoong rode alongside on his horse, but he spent the entire time dodging suggestive, questioning glances from San.

He pointedly ignored the cleric and pressed on, focusing on the road ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can take exactly zero credit for the Old Code, that whole thing is from Dragonheart. That scene with Bowen in the rain reciting it almost mournfully? Oscar-worthy. Stuck with me since childhood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got split THREE TIMES which is why this is going up so fast.

The party spent the daylight hours efficiently, making haste where they could and resting only when necessary. The sun was just sinking below the horizon when they finally came upon the fort.

The first thing that hit them was the smell of cinders, ash kicking up beneath their feet with every step. The second was the stench of death, so strong that all save Wooyoung and Seonghwa retched, tucking their faces into their sleeves.

San conjured more than a dozen motes of magical energy to illuminate their way as the sun continued to sink, shedding light on what had happened there.

It was…a dreadful sight.

The bodies of soldiers littered the area just outside the stronghold, charred beyond all recognition. Their armor was all that remained to identify them; now-blackened steel emblazoned with a strange symbol.

“What is that sigil?” Hongjoong asked, wiping the soot off of a discarded shield with his sleeve. “It belongs to no house I have ever known.”

Yeosang and Yunho both shook their heads, not recognizing it. The symbol appeared to be a shield surrounding concentric runic circles with eight points.

They continued past the stables, which had been entirely razed to the ground. San hissed and shooed away some crows which had alighted upon a corpse near the main entry into the stronghold. They croaked at him in a perturbed sort of way as they flew off in a flurry of black feathers.

The party was quiet as they entered through the deceptively normal wooden door. The hinges creaked as they pulled it open, peering into the darkness.

San stepped forward, sending his lights inside. There was a short hallway, appearing to end abruptly across the way. There was a body slumped in front of the stone wall opposite them, just across from an open archway to the left. The only place for them to go, it seemed. San kept his lights hovering as he headed toward the end of the hall, eyeing the body warily as though it may spring back to life—or at least, an unlife—at any moment.

He made it only three steps before he was grabbed from behind. He squealed in terror—only to realize it was Wooyoung scooping him up into his arms and leaping back just in time to avoid a volley of metal bolts which suddenly shot out from the stone walls to either side of them.

“Traps.” Wooyoung explained, subtly looking the cleric over for injury. “The whole place must be rigged.”

“O-oh.” San murmured, his face blazing. “Thank you.”

Wooyoung nodded once. “Anytime.”

“They obviously came through here…and yet, they set off no traps?” Jongho asked, confused. He had crouched down near to where San had stepped, trying to inspect the stone there.

“Perhaps they were light on their feet and very observant?” Wooyoung suggested pointedly, setting San down. The cleric brushed himself off, coughing awkwardly.

“There are…advanced magicks that could have helped them.” Mingi said. “Spells which slow time, or allow someone to take a ghost-like form. But those are…volatile magicks, and few can master them.”

Behind them, Seonghwa stepped forward, speaking an incantation in the draconic language. Before any of them had truly been able to discern what was happening, he had blazed past them with a quickness not unlike the wind, his body having become incorporeal for a brief moment, casting off a faint bluish hue. He reappeared once more in front of the open archway at the end of the hall, fully himself again.

“If they have learned such magicks, they are a force to be reckoned with.” The dragon declared, reaching over to pull the lever which was embedded into the stone wall next to him. There was an audible click, the sound of shifting metal…and when Wooyoung stepped forward, no traps were sprung.

The rest of the party hesitantly continued down the hall while Seonghwa proceeded through the archway. By the time they reached him, he was knelt before another corpse, its skin black and rotted to the point that it was impossible to discern whether the figure had been man or woman, young or old. They wore mage’s robes of simple gray, but that same symbol from before was embroidered into the stole.

There were several other bodies strewn across the room, in a similar condition to the first. Seonghwa lifted the corpse’s hand, examining it closely.

Yunho immediately made for the bookshelf in the corner, but found little of any use. Mostly historical volumes, or fictional texts. There was a desk with a mess of parchment, a full inkwell and several quills, but the pages were all blank. The candle in the corner of the desk had burned down to the bottom of the wax, as though it hadn’t been blown out.

“The men outside were certainly felled by dragon fire.” Seonghwa said, dropping the dead figure’s hand. “But the ones inside were killed by the blight. I feel that those same cultists who attacked us at the High Mountain are also behind the attacks upon these strongholds.”

“Which means they’re in league with the dragon?” Yeosang surmised.

“If the cultists convinced the dragon it had been _these_ men responsible for the extinction of our kind, and not themselves, perhaps.” Seonghwa replied thoughtfully. “I am sure the dragon is experiencing immeasurable pain. Seeking revenge upon those whom they believe are responsible is a natural progression of those feelings. Grief, anger, regret…surely these have all culminated into the rage and destruction we saw outside.”

“You didn’t…seek revenge.” Hongjoong murmured.

Seonghwa shook his head. “I seek only justice. It was my understanding that the Order of Twilight was brought to trial after the purge and held accountable for their crimes. But the Order appears to have survived, and that cannot stand.”

“How should we proceed?” Jongho asked, looking to Yeosang.

The prince thought on that for a moment while Yunho continued to poke about for clues. It appeared there was nothing to be found, however. He lingered at the center of the room where a stone dais rose from the ground in the shape of the symbol they had seen on the guards and mages. At its heart, a crude column sat as though it held some great purpose. There was a divot in the top of it, and though it had an unusual shape, it had been corroded so heavily by damage from magic or fire that it was completely indiscernible.

“We must intercept the Order of Twilight before they manage to destroy another stronghold.” Yeosang said, finally.

Hongjoong bristled. “Are you sure that is wise, your highness? Shouldn’t we seek more aid from the kingdom? Surely if we were to report our findings to the king, if Seonghwa were to—”

“Seonghwa is under no obligation to trek across the kingdom to present himself at the palace.” Yeosang interrupted. “And I cannot know how my father would react to him. I cannot assume that a dragon would be met with cordiality, given the circumstances. Fear has drained the sense from greater rulers than him.”

Hongjoong had to concede to that point.

“And beside, soldiers will do us no good against a dragon. They would serve no purpose beyond creating a distraction. I would be asking them to follow me only to die, and that is not something I can abide.” Yeosang continued. “To petition the Academy for more mages is another obstacle entirely. We haven’t the time for bureaucracy. I fear we must face this challenge alone.”

Jongho hummed in understanding, a look of something like admiration upon his face.

“On those points, we agree.” Wooyoung said. “I have no great delusions of just what such a small company is capable of…but I believe we are equipped to handle these cultists again, so long as they are few in number and so long as Seonghwa can intercept the dragon working with them.”

“Of course.” Seonghwa assured. “Until this dragon is found and the Order of Twilight is no more, my work is not finished. You may count me as your ally, your highness.”

Yunho perked up, then, his eyes going wide. He looked between Yeosang and Seonghwa several times before realizing that his prince had no earthly idea why Seonghwa continued to stand there expectantly.

He scurried over to whisper in his ear—though calling it _whispering_ was generous, as he was easily heard by all the others—motioning to Seonghwa.

“You are meant to make an oath, Highness. A dragon has offered an alliance. In centuries past, this was the highest honor any cause could achieve.”

Yeosang blinked, quickly schooling his features to hide the sheer terror which had suddenly shot through him. “I—oh…how am I meant to…?”

Yunho nudged him forward, and Seonghwa held out a hand.

Yeosang reached out, grasping Seonghwa’s wrist, and Seonghwa did the same with Yeosang’s own.

“I, Seonghwa the Blackfire, warden of humanity and protector of mankind, offer an alliance.”

Yeosang swallowed, doing his best not to stutter. “I, Prince Yeosang of House Kang, first of his name, second son of his majesty the king, accept this alliance.”

“There was a time when great speeches were given in moments like this. A commander, or a ruler, would use such a moment to speak his heart’s truth for his followers to hear.” Seonghwa explained, inclining his head.

“I am no ruler.” Yeosang replied with a mirthless huff of a laugh. “And I am hardly a commander. But where I have seen injustice, I would see justice done. Where I have seen suffering, I would have it ended. Alone, I could not hope to achieve such. But with your help, such ambitions seem possible.”

Seonghwa smiled in a way which spoke volumes, his grip tightening.

“Then let us see it through, together.”

Yeosang nodded, feeling a little breathless as each of them let go.

The moment was broken, however, when he caught a glimpse of Yunho’s face—eyes sparkling with wonder and grinning emphatically from ear to ear—and Yeosang could not help but to snort in amusement, shaking his head as though to admonish him.

“I feel there is nothing left to be gained from poking around this old place any further.” Wooyoung commented, nudging at one of the corpses with his boot. “We should put some distance between us and it before we make camp…and the hour grows late.”

“Yes, I agree.” Yeosang replied with a solemn nod. “Let us away.”

With that, the party made their way back to the caravan and the horses, intending to find a safer place to camp. They left with heavy hearts, regretful that they had not a moment to spare to ensure each victim received a proper burial. But time was of the essence, if they intended to head off the cultists before their next attack.

With any luck, they would manage to prevent another atrocity such as that which they had just seen from occurring once again.

***

The party’s mood had turned somber as they finally made camp for the night. They put as much distance between themselves and the carnage of the site of the attack as they could manage before finally stopping the caravan. They were all exhausted, not even bothering with a fire. Each of them grabbed for their bedrolls, all except Wooyoung, who seemed to realize he was likely the only one considering watch.

Seonghwa shook his head, motioning to the caravan to encourage him to take his blankets with him as well.

“I will take watch for the duration of the evening. Dragons such as myself are capable of slipping into a half-slumber where we can retain my awareness of the environment while still finding sleep.” Seonghwa explained. “Rest assured, I will watch over you all.”

It seemed that no one was of any mind to question him or argue. They merely offered their agreeances or their thanks and promptly made their bedrolls for the night.

He could not blame them for being exhausted. Surely the day had worn them all down, trying as it had been. Seonghwa made his way a little further past the treeline, closer to the road. Surely if anyone were to ambush them, it would be from that direction.

He prepared to settle there in the grass when he noticed someone approaching. He looked up to see Hongjoong watching him curiously.

“Yes, Sir Hongjoong, what is it?”

The knight shrugged. “I just…believed you may be in need of some company.”

Seonghwa’s brow furrowed. “I offered to take watch alone. You needn’t join me and exhaust yourself.”

“I’ll still get plenty of sleep.” Hongjoong insisted. “I just…you know. Ah—I suppose it seemed wrong to leave you all alone.”

Seonghwa frowned at him. “Sir Hongjoong…I am a dragon. I can certainly handle being on my own.”

“No one should be all on their own…if they can help it.” Hongjoong murmured, nervously toeing at the grass.

Seonghwa sighed, crossing his arms. “You seem to see me as a man in need of company. A man plagued by loneliness. But I am not a _man,_ Sir Hongjoong.”

The knight swallowed. “It is…hard to reconcile this form and your other.”

“You see me as two different entities.” Seonghwa surmised. “The dragon and the man.”

“Perhaps I do.”

“But I am _not_ a man.” Seonghwa repeated. “This form I wear…it is a glamour. A facade. It is no more representative of my true nature than if our dear mage were to polymorph you into a mouse.”

“I…suppose.” Hongjoong murmured. “Why are you…why are you telling me this?”

Seonghwa smiled then, in a way which did not reach his eyes. “You seem to have grown…comfortable with me. But I sense your comfort is with _this_ version of me.”

“Would that be…bad?” Hongjoong asked softly.

Seonghwa gave a soft sigh. “If you accept me, Sir Hongjoong…I wish to be certain that you accept _me._ Not this…farce of a disguise I wear for travel.”

The knight seemed to think on that for a moment, struggling to find an adequate response. Seonghwa’s expression did not give much away, but there was something in his eyes that disheartened Hongjoong—something like pensive acceptance in the face of disappointment.

He spoke without thinking, his next words coming unbidden. 

“Transform.”

Seonghwa blinked. “Pardon?”

The knight took a breath, confidence growing. “Do it. Change into your true form.”

“Sir Hongjoong—”

“There’s no one around, we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Hongjoong assured. “Just do it.”

Seonghwa frowned uneasily, taking pause…but eventually, he did as he was asked. That familiar black fog slowly enveloped him, and then he was there, in all his glory. A dragon. The _last_ dragon…or so he was believed to be.

Hongjoong approached before the mist had even ebbed.

Somehow, he seemed…larger than before. Perhaps it was due to the cave being an enclosed space, cavernous and grand though it had been. He had not truly seen him in the open, except when perched upon his back.

But he was _colossal._

He was easily ten meters tall, and his wingspan was more than thrice his height. He only kept them spread for a moment, as if stretching them, before tucking them back against his spine. He seemed to tread carefully in the new environment, ensuring his tail was curled close and keeping his neck low to the ground, remaining eye-level with Hongjoong.

But the notion was ludicrous. An ancient dragon who had traveled the world on the whims of the wind would surely have nothing to fear being in a forest within the territories of the kingdom he had called home for centuries.

Hongjoong realized that hesitation, that tentative demeanor, it was for _him._

He reached out with no apprehension whatsoever, pressing his palm to Seonghwa’s snout.

“When I look into your eyes, they are the same.” Hongjoong told him. “The same wisdom and kindness shines within them. The same pain lurks there, too.”

Seonghwa huffed a snort of a sound, the spines along his neck rattling as though he had shivered. He almost appeared flustered by the comment.

Hongjoong grinned, pulling his hand away. “Apologies, was that too forward?”

“You needn’t apologize. I should have known such a skilled knight would be so observant.” Seonghwa commented, keeping his voice low so as to not create too much noise. He stretched his legs out a little, still cautious of where he allowed his limbs to move.

“Does it cause you discomfort?” Hongjoong asked. “Being in the human form?”

Seonghwa shrugged. “In some ways. It feels as though I am wearing leather armor with all the laces drawn too tight.”

“Very well…you should remain in this form through the night, then.” Hongjoong answered determinedly.

The dragon cocked his head. “What if someone were to come across us?”

“We are in the thick of uninhabited lands, it is the dead of night and you are black as pitch. I would not worry yourself over it.” Hongjoong insisted, throwing himself to the ground and patting the grass next to him.

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment before lying down, watching curiously as Hongjoong leaned against him casually, as though he were a tree, or a prone steed, or perhaps, a trusted friend.

“Will you tell me something, Seonghwa?” He spoke, then, his tone earnest.

“What do you wish to know?” The dragon replied.

“The dragon riders…what were they like?” Hongjoong asked softly. “I only ever had my grandfather’s stories to go by. I always thought he was exaggerating. The tales had been passed to him by his father, but it was his father’s father who rode a dragon into battle.”

Seonghwa thought for a moment. “From which house do you hail, Sir Hongjoong?”

“Ah, there is no such house. My family name is Kim.” Hongjoong explained. “We aren’t a noble lineage…but I do hail from a long line of knights.”

“House Kim…” Seonghwa murmured, seeming to ignore the rest of his statement. “Your grandfather’s grandfather…was his name Wonshik?”

Hongjoong sat up, then, shocked. “Y-yes, that was his—did you…did you know him?”

“I met him once.” Seonghwa confirmed. “On the eve of the Battle of Kratos. His companion was a silver dragon from the north. Her name was—ah, I suppose the closest approximation in your tongue would be _Chanmi_ or perhaps _Chungha.”_

Hongjoong’s eyes were alight, then, sparkling with possibility. “My grandfather always said…his own grandfather spoke of a dragon so beautiful—with scales that shimmered like moonlight. I always believed it to be an exaggeration.”

“Mm, not at all. She was quite beautiful. And she and Wonshik were very close. After the war was won, as I understood, they settled down somewhere near the kingdom.” Seonghwa said. “But then the purge dragged us away from what little peace we had achieved, and she died along with all the others. All save one.”

Hongjoong’s mind had wandered, latching onto one of Seonghwa’s earlier statements. “Wait. You said _they_ settled down. He and his…dragon?”

“Yes.” Seonghwa answered. “I do not know if they were wed. But after the war’s end, they lived out the rest of their days peacefully until the great purge.”

Hongjoong choked. “W-wed?”

Seonghwa nodded his massive head. “Dragons were made to be man’s companions. In battle, and in other ways. A bond between a dragon and rider is one like none other.”

“I…see.” Hongjoong trailed off.

After a long moment, Seonghwa spoke again. “You asked me what the dragon riders were like. Why?”

“I suppose I just…wished to know what kind of person a dragon rider should be.” Hongjoong murmured. “I know what is expected of a knight. I swore an oath to uphold the tenets of the Old Code, and I know in my heart that is the kind of person I must strive to be. I only wondered if there was something that set dragon riders apart from other knights. What it took to be a dragon rider.”

Seonghwa hummed. “A dragon rider was not a position to be appointed or a title to be earned. The honor is bestowed by the dragons themselves. A knight could go his whole life training to be a dragon rider, and never earn that honor…though not for any lack of skill or station. There is truly but one thing which makes a knight worthy of such.”

“What?” Hongjoong asked in a low voice.

“Trust.” Seonghwa explained. “A dragon must trust their rider, and their rider must trust them in return. Trust to do each other no harm, yes…but trust in each other as companions, as comrades. As partners. As lovers, even…for what is love but trust taken to its highest form? The trust between a dragon and their rider is absolute.”

“And you…trust me.” Hongjoong responded, though it distinctly did not feel like a question.

“You were prepared to give your life for mine.” Seonghwa replied. “In turn, I asked for your trust, to save you, and you gave it. Trust is earned, Sir Hongjoong, and you have done so.”

“Right…” Hongjoong murmured.

“The hour grows late.” Seonghwa said in a soft voice. “You should try to get some sleep. I am happy to regale to you more about dragon riders come the dawn…if you wish.”

Hongjoong nodded. “Very well. Thank you, Seonghwa.”

“Of course.”

And yet, Hongjoong did not stray far. He merely picked himself up from the ground before dropping next to Seonghwa again, lying in the natural cradle made by the space between the dragon’s tail and his back leg.

“Wh-what is this?”

“This is me, trusting you.” Hongjoong replied easily, settling in. “You’re not going to roll over and crush me in your sleep, are you?”

“No, of course not.” Seonghwa responded quietly.

“Then I have nothing to fear.” Hongjoong said. “Besides, your scales are warm, and the night grows colder by the hour.”

He made a show of stretching before getting comfortable, shutting his eyes. Seonghwa was stunned to silence, well and truly at a loss.

“Good night.” Hongjoong chirped too kindly, smiling to himself.

“Sleep well.” Seonghwa blurted out hastily.

He watched Hongjoong for a long while, unsure of what to make of the situation. But sure enough, the knight dozed off within minutes, snoring softly and appearing completely comfortable cradled against Seonghwa’s scales.

Seonghwa eventually found sleep, too, soothed by the calm, gentle breaths of his slumbering companion.

***

With the dawn came more plans for travel. Seonghwa called upon his human glamour once more before returning to camp with Hongjoong. They found Yeosang and Wooyoung huddled around the map, laid out before them on a tree stump. Yunho stood over his prince’s shoulder, the others hovering nearby as they finished packing up the caravan.

“Something troubles you.” Seonghwa said, looking to Wooyoung.

The bowman nodded, handing off a half-eaten apple to his horse.

“His highness has shown us the map of the reported attacks, but I just haven’t been able to wrap my head around it.” Wooyoung murmured, staring at the map as though it held some secret he couldn’t quite grasp.

“How do you mean?” Seonghwa asked, approaching curiously.

“It’s just…these forts. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to their location, or why they were chosen as targets.” Wooyoung said. “There doesn’t seem to be a strategic advantage to taking these strongholds down before mounting an assault elsewhere, perhaps on the capital…they also did not appear to hold any great amount of riches or resources. I can’t say I even understand what their function was.”

“Border defense…?” Hongjoong suggested, as though it were obvious.

“But the kingdom’s borders are _here.”_ Wooyoung reasoned, running his finger along a bold line well to the west of the forts. “So why build them here?”

“The architecture was ancient. Those structures had already been built long before the kingdom rose to power, before those arbitrary borders were drawn by humanity.” Seonghwa said.

“So then, they aren’t military strongholds?” Jongho asked.

“The guards posted outside were soldiers, but the ones we found inside appeared to be scholars or mages. They wore no armor.” San pointed out.

“Not to mention that the symbol they bore appeared magical in nature.” Yunho added.

The party seemed to ruminate upon that for a moment. The silence was broken some moments later when their mage gasped, snapping his fingers in a revelatory manner.

“Ah! Leylines!” Mingi piped up, leaning over and tapping at the map in a rapid pattern. He lifted his hand, motioning over the map. A series of glowing lines appeared on the page, snaking across the ink in seemingly random patterns. He traced his finger along a particularly bold one, which happened to coincide with the positions of the forts and even Yeosang’s palace.

“Of course…Mingi, you’re a genius!” Yunho praised.

“Um. Could you explain, for the magically disinclined?” Hongjoong asked.

“We are taught that mages draw their power from the earth, and that is…mostly true.” Mingi said. “We actually draw our power from the leylines; they are currents of magical energy that run deep beneath the ground. They make up the very fabric of our livelihood. It is said the gods stitched together reality itself from them, and they keep our world from crumbling apart.”

“Powerful magic requires close proximity to the leylines. Think of them as…rivers of magic. Some are large and full of raging energy. Some are small, like streams branching out all over our world. They connect everything.” San explained. “The Sanctum is built upon a powerful leyline. The Academy, too. Most places of magical learning or worship are.”

“So then, if these forts were built along such a powerful leyline, there must have been a reason for that.” Hongjoong suggested.

“I would certainly believe so.” Yunho agreed.

“Seonghwa? Do you…happen to know why forts like these were built?” Hongjoong asked gently.

The dragon was clearly lost in thought, staring off into the distance as though he could seek out the answers among the treetops.

He startled slightly, regarding them with a somewhat clouded expression. “I am afraid I do not. Though I would wager that…whatever their original design was, they have since been repurposed. The crest those banners bore was not familiar to me. Whatever order or affiliation those men had…I have not seen their ilk before.”

“Nor have I.” Yeosang mumbled thoughtfully. “Not within the kingdom records. Yunho, it was unfamiliar to you as well, yes?”

“I cannot say that it looked _unfamiliar,_ but I cannot recall where I may have seen it before. Perhaps in a record of crests among several hundred others. But as for a name or a purpose…I have no knowledge of it.” Yunho replied.

“Well. A load of good that does us.” Wooyoung grunted, stabbing his knife into the map directly over the nearest fort not marked with flame.

Yunho gave a panicked wheeze, gently extracting the knife after a fair bit of struggle. He pouted at the damaged parchment, but Mingi soothed him with a palm on his shoulder, his free hand waving over the map. The material mended as though it had never been damaged, and Yunho gasped, eyes sparkling with delight.

“I say we make for that stronghold and hope we beat them to it, then ambush them.” Wooyoung said, ignoring the two of them save to snatch his knife back from Yunho’s grasp, sheathing it in the scabbard at his thigh. 

“It’s a…brash plan, but a sound one.” Jongho admitted. “If their numbers are not too great, and if Seonghwa can reason with the dragon, or at least hold it off—”

“I believe it can be done.” Hongjoong agreed.

“We are lacking in men, and we are hardly prepared for anything more than a skirmish, but I fear we have little choice.” Yeosang murmured.

“We still do not know how they came upon us at the High Mountain. If it was our party they were pursuing, or if they came seeking Seonghwa himself, and it was simply a case of fortuitous timing. They _claimed_ to have no quarrel with Seonghwa, but were quick to target him when given the chance…so we cannot take them at their word. In either scenario, if they sent but three men to go against a party of seven, or their intent was to take on a dragon with such a small company…I do not feel that bodes well for their numbers, or at the very least, their strategies.” Yunho spoke up. “The Order was disbanded and the known participants executed after the purge a century ago. If they have spent all this time rebuilding their ranks in secret and remaining hidden, ensuring they went unnoticed…”

“They couldn’t have too many, lest they be discovered.” Mingi said. “There has been nary a suspicion among the Academy mages of such a resurgence existing.”

“Such a thing has not crossed the minds of the Sanctum’s leaders, either.” San agreed.

“Let us hope that simply means their numbers have remained miniscule as to survive undetected, and not that it is a result of corruption among the highest institutions of magical learning.” Yeosang mumbled gravely.

“Oh, perish the thought.” Seonghwa hissed.

“Mingi…you said that leylines connect all over the world, correct?” Jongho asked. “And San…you mentioned the Academy _and_ the Sanctum are both built over strong leylines?”

“That’s right.” San confirmed.

“What are you thinking?” Mingi questioned.

Jongho’s mouth was a grim line. “Can the leylines be used for…I don’t know, some nefarious ritual? These cultists are necromancers, and they have been leaving a slew of bodies at each of these attack sites. Could it be possible they are planning something on a massive scale, using the leylines?”

“Possible? Maybe. But…highly unlikely. It is said that only the gods know how to tap into the true potential of the leylines.” Mingi answered. “Unfortunately, since the dark magicks the Order calls upon are banned, I cannot say I have much knowledge of the kinds of things they may be capable of, beyond what we have already seen.”

“The gods…huh.” Hongjoong mumbled almost inaudibly, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

“What is it?” Jongho asked.

“It was just…something Seonghwa and I spoke of, when we were down in the mountain wellspring.” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa regarded him curiously as he continued. “Dragons were created by the gods to be humanity’s wardens. To strike down those who would oppress their people—but also to humble those who would reach for the gods. This Order…they facilitated the purge which wiped out the dragons a hundred years ago, did they not?”

“Yes…” Yeosang replied, seeming to understand what he was implying.

“Such an act makes little sense without a greater purpose.” Seonghwa murmured. “I always believed the slaughter of my kind had been so senseless…an ill-conceived grab for power…but perhaps it was simply that the Order was snuffed out before they could enact their true plans, plans which required the extinction of the dragons.”

“And surely this plan of theirs involves the leylines…” San mused aloud.

“The foundations of magic itself…” Mingi said.

“They intend to reach out and touch the gods. To tap into the power only they should be capable of wielding.” Hongjoong concluded. “And they had to slaughter humanity’s wardens before they could attempt it.”

“This is all quite fascinating.” Wooyoung spoke up in a flat tone. “But it says nothing of the Order’s intentions. We can only speculate on their schemes, as it stands, and that does us little good.”

“Wooyoung makes a fair point.” Yeosang agreed. “We may discuss such matters on the road. For now, we should make for the next fort…and hope to the gods we arrive before the Order of Twilight does.”

The others seemed to agree, nodding in assent. San closed his eyes for a brief moment and sent their ambitions to the gods in the form of a prayer, hoping against hope that they would be heard. 

***

The party traveled until nightfall, and longer still, for as long as their tired bodies and their reliable steeds would allow. With San’s magic to light the way, they continued for a few hours past sundown before finally deciding it was all they could feasibly manage without endangering the horses or themselves.

They made camp in a sizable clearing near a network of ponds fed by a small creek. The horses were grateful for the rest and the refreshment, eagerly heading for the water the moment they were freed of their yokes and saddles.

After the party ate, Seonghwa offered to watch over the others, again, finding a place some paces away past the thickest of the trees once more. And yet again, Hongjoong sought him out, like a moth to the flame.

He did not need to ask Seonghwa to transform. Seonghwa did not need to be granted permission. He did so of his own accord, reverting to his draconic visage without hesitation.

Hongjoong smiled, finding that now-familiar cradle along the dragon’s tail.

“Are you certain that is where you are comfortable?” Seonghwa asked gently.

“Yeah…s’getting colder. You’re warm.” He murmured, closing his eyes.

Seonghwa chuckled softly, shaking his head in fond amusement before settling against the grass. “Very well, then. Sleep well, Sir Hongjoong.”

“You as well, Seonghwa.”

Hongjoong was out within minutes, snoring softly every so often. Beyond the treeline, however, he could still hear the others at camp, most of them not having found sleep just yet. They were speaking in low voices, as not to disturb those who had already nodded off…which appeared only to be Mingi at that moment.

“The nights are growing colder.” Jongho commented, swaddling himself in furs borrowed from Seonghwa’s hoard.

“They are…it is nigh unbearable.” Yeosang murmured, glancing over his shoulder. “Yunho?”

“Ah, of course, Highness.” Yunho responded, sliding his bedroll closer until he was able to drape an arm over him, pulling the prince close against his chest.

Jongho choked, his face blazing a little as he looked away.

“Thank you…I truly cannot understand how you are always so _warm.”_ Yeosang replied, sighing in content.

“Perhaps it is my own special form of magic.” Yunho joked, and Yeosang leaned back to swat him playfully. The former seemed to notice Jongho’s reaction, however, and cocked his head curiously. “Jongho? Something wrong?”

“Uh, no, nothing…” Jongho mumbled, trailing off awkwardly.

Yeosang giggled softly. “Are you, perhaps, scandalized by the idea of a royal bed warmer? Yunho is my attendant, but we have been friends since childhood. He has been my _only_ friend, truthfully…but it is still his duty to see to my needs.”

“I figured that royals would have those…fancy golden pans they put between the sheets, with the embers.” Jongho murmured.

“Oh, not since my brother’s linens caught fire from one when he was a boy. My father was horrified and banned them from the palace.” Yeosang explained. “He assigned himself and my brother servants to act as their bed warmers after that…but, as in most situations throughout my life, I was not considered. Yunho graciously offered after seeing my lips turn blue one evening during a heavy snow.”

“Truthfully, the servant’s quarters are frigid that time of year, so it was equally a selfish offer.” Yunho admitted, chuckling.

Jongho simply nodded, appearing a little dazed.

“Have you ever been in a castle in the dead of winter, Jongho?” Yeosang asked.

“I…cannot say that I have.” Jongho replied.

“The stone becomes so frigid that one’s bare limbs might stick to it if one lingers for too long. Fireplaces keep the worst of the chill at bay, but unless one intends to sleep on the floor just in front of it and wake smelling of cinders, they do little good.” Yeosang explained. “Not to mention that they must be tended to throughout the night, or they will dwindle.”

“That makes sense.” Jongho agreed.

“It felt kinder to ask Yunho to share my bed than to ask him to continue checking on a fire throughout the night. At least then he was allowed his own sleep.” Yeosang said.

“It was appreciated.” Yunho added.

“Though I will say, the winter you went through puberty was absolute hell. He kept rutting against me like a dog at all hours of the night.” Yeosang teased.

“Oh my gods—H- _Highness!_ Why would you share something so mortifying?” Yunho wailed, burying his face into Yeosang’s neck in shame as he turned red to his ears.

Yeosang laughed, shaking his head. “I know that my father certainly enjoyed the more…salacious aspects of keeping a bed warmer, but that was not my fancy. Yunho is as a brother to me…were my brother any kind of sibling, I suppose.”

Jongho’s attention piqued at that. “Oh. I must have…misunderstood.”

Yeosang blinked several times before letting out another peal of laughter. “You believed…Yunho and I—? Oh no, certainly not. Perhaps if we had not been all but raised together, but not as it stands.”

“To say nothing of your station, Highness.” Yunho said, muffled into Yeosang’s shoulder.

“Yes, of course. Surely I will be married off to some princess I do not even know for the sake of an alliance with some lesser kingdom territory, at my father’s behest.” Yeosang sighed. “But, as my brother has not yet married, while our father awaits better prospects for him, I have remained blessedly unwed.”

“I suppose princes don’t have much choice in who they marry, hm?” Jongho asked softly.

“Not at all. The price of royalty, I suppose.” Yeosang murmured sardonically. “In any case…this is a rather abysmal topic to ruminate on so late into the night. We should all do our best to find sleep, and be prepared to travel early.”

“I agree. My apologies.” Jongho replied, turning over.

He noticed then that Wooyoung’s bedroll was empty, but he hardly had the energy to bother getting up to look for him. The archer had strange nighttime habits as it was, and a cursory glance over the rest of the camp told him that San, too, was not there. Next to the cleric’s empty bedroll, Mingi let out a loud snore.

Jongho sighed, covering his head with the furs. It would be a long night.

San, meanwhile, had crept out of bed not long after Wooyoung. The ranger seemed unhindered by the darkness as he examined the area close to the treeline. He noticed immediately when San approached him, watching the cleric carefully in the low light of the moon and stars.

“What are you still doing awake?” San asked, cocking his head.

“I wanted to survey the perimeter before finding sleep, is all.” Wooyoung answered, a hard edge to his tone. Upon realizing how harsh that had sounded, his face softened. “Er, nervous habit, is all.”

“I see.” San murmured, nodding.

“And you?” Wooyoung questioned.

“I saw you sneak away and became curious.” San admitted. “I also…wished to speak with you, alone.”

“Is that so?” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“I would thank you for saving my life last night.” San explained.

“What, from the traps?” Wooyoung chuckled. “It was nothing. Wouldn’t do to have our cleric skewered by steel bolts, hm?”

“It was not ‘nothing’ to me.” San returned. “I cannot repay you, not for something so significant…but I wished to thank you.”

Wooyoung was near to voicing a protest when San fell to his knees, and the archer’s mouth clicked shut.

Far be it from him to shun a man’s gratitude at the cost of his own pleasure.

And San did make his gratitude known quite emphatically, eager to prove his tongue was just as beguiling as his wit. Wooyoung found himself leaning back against the nearest tree for support, carding his hand into San’s hair while the cleric showed him another form of worship.

It was not long before he fell victim to it, and San earnestly took what he was given before pulling back to look up at Wooyoung with his eyes sparkling and hungry. He licked his lips and grinned, satisfied.

Seconds later, he was hauled to his feet, into Wooyoung’s arms.

It mattered not to Wooyoung that San’s face was a mess of sweat and saliva…he kissed him regardless, deep and greedy as he pressed his knee between the cleric’s legs until the other was riding his thigh. 

San mewled and shook as he found his own pleasure, with little more than the friction between his legs and the sweep of Wooyoung’s tongue along his own. He came down in hard, panting breaths, resting his head against the other’s shoulder for a moment.

“I am…rather disgusting, now.” San grumbled when he finally spoke again. “I’ll need to wash up before bed.” 

Wooyoung chuckled. “My apologies…I did not intend to make such a mess of you.”

“Something tells me that you are not at all sorry.” San quipped back with a knowing smirk.

Wooyoung shrugged. “Mm, guilty as charged.”

San huffed, swatting at the other’s shoulder. “Go on, then…back to camp with you. I’ll return once I’ve cleaned up.”

“Very well.” Wooyoung agreed, leaning down to steal one more kiss, open-mouthed and filthy, before pulling back with a grin.

San rolled his eyes and shooed him off before creating a bit of light for himself by which to find the creek. He eventually made his way there and cleaned himself off before pulling the water from his clothes with magic, sighing in satisfaction before shivering. It was getting cold, and having just soaked himself in frigid water in the dead of night surely had not helped.

He continued through the trees, trying to find his way back to camp with those little motes of light magic leading his way. He realized, however, that he must have gotten lost somewhere, as he didn’t see the others anywhere despite having found the clearing—or perhaps, another clearing—in the woods.

Worry crept along his spine as he wondered just far off course he’d gotten, and as he frantically searched the area, he was not looking where he was going. When he turned back around, he nearly tripped over something in the darkness, and suddenly he was face-to-face with a great beast.

San let out a scream that cut through the trees, and green eyes opened before him, blinking in confusion.

He realized only then that it had been Seonghwa, returned to his dragon form.

“Whasswrong?!” Hongjoong slurred from nearby, having unceremoniously rolled off of Seonghwa’s tail and into the grass. He snapped up his weapon on reflex.

“San?” Seonghwa questioned in a low voice, cocking his massive head.

“What is it?” Wooyoung asked, appearing from the shadows with his daggers at the ready and leaping to San’s side.

It was not long before the others had come rushing over as well, half draped in their furs and blankets while wielding their weapons. Mingi had groggily conjured a small flame, but it quickly went out as his concentration broke in his tired state.

“Nothing, it’s nothing—it was only Seonghwa, I hadn’t realized he had reverted to his true form.” San said, letting out a long, slow breath to calm his racing heart. “I apologize for startling everyone.”

“No, it was my fault in equal measure. I did not warn the rest of the party.” Seonghwa murmured. Wooyoung immediately relaxed, sheathing his weapons.

“Sir Hongjoong was trying to keep you to himself, hm? How selfish.” San pouted. “The nearer I stand to you, the warmer I become! How cruel, to hide you away from the rest of camp. Did you wish for us to freeze?”

Hongjoong scoffed. “I planned no such thing! Seonghwa simply…changed forms for his own comfort in sleep.”

“Well it’s _far_ too cold for _my_ comfort in sleep, furs or none.” San complained.

“You are…welcome to share in my warmth.” Seonghwa said. “All of you.”

Hongjoong’s face twisted up, but he did not voice a protest.

Everyone seemed to mumble some form of agreeance, tiredly moving their sleeping bags and furs over from the main camp. Seonghwa spread out a little, creating a circular crescent with his neck and his tail to allow for ample space near his hearts, the main source of his body heat. 

Despite any initial hesitance, each one of them managed to gravitate toward him in the night, seeking his unnatural warmth.

Seonghwa was used to slumbering beneath mountains of trinkets and gems, blanketed by eccentricities and a thousand years’ worth of treasure. But somehow, falling asleep surrounded by a group of others—of those he could call comrades, or even friends—felt more valuable to him than all the riches in the world.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am hopping around on my WIPs at the moment, but this one currently has the majority of my focus. Enjoy!

With morning came the promise of a new day…and a new opportunity to finally put an end to the heinous acts of the Order of Twilight. San sent up another prayer to the gods that they would not be too late, this time, and after a quick breakfast and perusal of the map, the party was off.

Travel was easy-going but overall still arduous. The long hours of riding and even being in their rather barebones carriage took its toll. Yeosang was the worst off…though he made a valiant effort of hiding it. It wasn’t simply that Yeosang was used to _comfort,_ per se, but he was _not_ used to travel of any great length, most especially without _any_ measure of comfort at all.

Yunho was the first to suggest they rest, but Yeosang insisted they press on. Hongjoong was next to try his hand at it, having noticed Yeosang’s growing discomfort. Still, the prince urged them to continue. Finally, Jongho demanded the company make at least a short stop at a nearby village. Yunho confirmed on the map that it was not a military stronghold and an agreement was made to locate it, regardless of the prince’s feelings on the matter.

He was too weary to offer much protest, and whether that was a blessing or a bane remained to be seen.

The village was small; a tiny hamlet with nothing more than a small pig farm and mill, a few houses and a tavern, nestled at the edge of a dark, sprawling forest. The townsfolk seemed wary of their approach, and Seonghwa raised his hood to cover his horns.

They were met at the main thoroughfare by a middle-aged man who held tight to his shovel as though it were a weapon. Seonghwa could see the way he was trembling down to his toes, angry and terrified all at once.

“Good morrow, sir—”

“Skip the pleasantries and state your demands.” The man snapped, cutting off Yeosang before he’d managed more than a few words. The prince sputtered, taken aback.

“I…beg your pardon, sir. We demand nothing, though we would ask to purchase refreshment and perhaps a half-hour’s worth of rest at your tavern.” Yeosang replied, remaining cordial.

The man seemed to size them up, confused but wary. _“They_ didn’t send you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.” Yeosang admitted. “We were not sent here by anyone, we are merely travelers passing through.”

“I—I see.” The man coughed, rolling his shoulders a little as some of the tension visibly drained from them. “Well, you’d best be moving on as quickly as y’came, then, lest _they_ show up.”

“Lest _who_ show up?” Jongho asked.

“The druids.” The man explained. “The forest mages. They control all the beasts within the woods, and they demand repayment for keeping them at bay.”

“Sounds to be a rather elegant form of extortion.” Seonghwa murmured.

“Shall we wager a guess on what happens should they fail to pay up?” Wooyoung grunted bitterly.

“We fear not these…druids of which you speak.” Yeosang told him. “We will pay you handsomely for what we’ve asked of you.”

The man regarded them for a long moment before finally letting down his guard. He pointed toward the inn with the end of his shovel.

“Find Shinyoung at the inn, she’ll see to you. Go on, then.” He said, ushering them along.

The party shared somewhat dubious glances before doing as he’d instructed.

The inn was small, but homey, in a modest sort of way. Shinyoung was a small but boisterous woman who seemed delighted to have anyone to serve, and brought them more than what they’d ordered.

Most of the party indulged in a bit of mulled wine, but Hongjoong had barely touched his, tapping his fingertips impatiently along the battered wood of the table.

“So, what’s the plan?” He asked eventually, leaning in on his elbows with a sort of intent in his gaze.

Yeosang’s brow scrunched. “The…plan remains as it always was. This detour should delay us but an hour at most.”

“No, I mean for these druids.” Hongjoong pressed.

Yeosang looked uncomfortable, then, clearing his throat. “Sir Hongjoong, it’s hardly our business.”

“Not our _business?”_ Hongjoong balked. “They are citizens of the kingdom, are they not? We have to help them!”

“Sir Hongjoong, we—we haven’t the time.” Yeosang told him, though he was clearly hesitant to say it. “We must catch up to the Order of Twilight or more people will die.”

“These people are dying here and now.” Hongjoong reasoned.

“We cannot afford the delay.” Yeosang said, regretful. “I am sorry.”

“Tch. _‘Where I have seen injustice, I would see justice done. Where I have seen suffering, I would have it ended’_ …were those not the words you spoke merely days ago?” Hongjoong countered.

“There are larger evils at play, Sir Hongjoong.” Yeosang replied evenly. “The fate of the entire kingdom is at stake.”

“There is no use defending the kingdom if one is willing to allow its people to suffer.” Hongjoong snapped.

“If we do not put an end to the Order’s schemes, then more than just these people here will suffer.” Yeosang said, his tone unwavering. “I am sorry, Sir Hongjoong. We cannot stay.”

Hongjoong’s fist clenched upon the table as he sat there, trembling. “A knight is sworn to valor…his blade defends the helpless. His might upholds the weak. _That_ is the oath I swore, Your Highness.”

“If I may…” Seonghwa cut in, raising a hand to quell them. “The party should continue on ahead and attempt to catch up to the Order. Hongjoong and I can remain here, take care of this problem for the townsfolk and fly back to meet you well before sunset.”

All of the tension drained out of Hongjoong as he balked at the dragon.

“How will you find us?” Yeosang was quick to ask.

“San or Mingi could send up a magical signal every half hour until we have rejoined with you. I will see it from virtually any distance once we are in the air.” Seonghwa said. “Rest assured that we will reunite with you long before you reach the next stronghold.”

Yeosang stared at Seonghwa for a long moment, briefly glancing at Hongjoong before looking back to the dragon. “Very well, then. I will hold you to your word on that. It will take all of us to combat the Order.”

“When we face them, we will face them together.” Seonghwa promised, and Yeosang believed him.

Once they finished their meals, the prince and the rest of the company headed off soon after, leaving Seonghwa and Hongjoong behind in that little village. The townsfolk were confused, but most were overjoyed for the assistance. And that was how Seonghwa and Hongjoong found themselves trekking into the dense forest, seeking out these supposed druids who were terrorizing that little hamlet.

The woods were dark and eerily quiet…hardly any birds or squirrels or other woodland creatures could be heard at all. There was some nefarious aura settled about the place, so thick that even Hongjoong could sense it. 

Regardless, he could not help but to look to Seonghwa with admiration and gratitude.

“Seonghwa.”

“Hm?” The dragon hummed, regarding him curiously.

Hongjoong gripped his sword a little tighter, resolved to find the right words. “Thank you…for having my back on this.”

Seonghwa offered him a beatific grin. “The heart of your conflict was not a conflict at all. You both wish to protect people. Prince Yeosang looks to the larger picture…this is why he would make a great king. But you do not overlook even the smallest of injustices, and that is why you make a great knight.”

“I don’t resent His Highness for the call he made.” Hongjoong told him. “But I…even knowing what was at stake, I couldn’t walk away from this.”

“It is a weakness and a strength all in one.” Seonghwa replied. “I am only glad to have been able to arrange for both of you to fulfill your duties. It will not always be this way, though.”

“Is that your way of saying you plan to hole back up in your mountain keep after all this is over?” Hongjoong asked, trying to keep the dread from his tone and failing miserably.

“No, not at all. We are far beyond that.” Seonghwa sighed, shaking his head. “My time of mourning and solitude is over. Humanity needs the dragons. We have seen how the Order slaughters indiscriminately. Even here, we see how those with power exploit the weak…it cannot continue unchecked.”

“The kingdom is large…the continent, larger. You are but one man—dragon—could you truly hope to restore the order of a century ago all on your own?” Hongjoong questioned softly.

“Of course not.” Seonghwa murmured. “But even a single dragon can cast his eye over a domain and claim it falls within his protection. If even one burgeoning evil cowers in fear, if even one act of senseless violence is prevented…then that is reason enough to slumber no longer.”

“I’m…beginning to see why you took my side.” Hongjoong murmured, his lips curling up in a tiny grin that was mostly to himself.

“You and I are rather alike, Sir Hongjoong.” Seonghwa said, smiling in that wistful, melancholy way of his. “Though, perhaps in my case it is not valor, but regret. If only I had remained more vigilant, if I had not allowed my grief to consume me for so long…perhaps I could have quashed the Order of Twilight before so many lives were lost.”

“You earned your century of mourning.” Hongjoong told him. “Who’s to say if you would have been able to prevent the Order from rising? They have lurked in the shadows, unseen by all. You may not have ever known until it was too late regardless.”

Seonghwa hummed, nodding. “If there is one thing I have learned over centuries of witnessing countless wars, it is that regret is a sheathed sword as often as it is a bloodied blade. We cannot ever know if the choice we made was the best one, so we must endeavor simply to do what we believe is right.”

“That’s the kind of wisdom we need in our kingdom’s war rooms.” Hongjoong replied, grinning toward him just as they crossed through the trees and into a clearing.

Seonghwa didn’t respond. Instead, his hand shot out, the fingers gently curling around Hongjoong’s wrist to hold him back. The knight looked to him in confusion, a silent question passing between the two of them.

Seonghwa inclined his head toward the opposite edge of the meadow, where the shadows swallowed the treeline before them. Though his perception was surely duller than the dragon’s, even he could sense the magic surging through the trees, as though the very air was charged with it.

Hongjoong peeled himself from Seonghwa’s grasp, stepping forward and squaring his shoulders.

“We seek the druids who terrorize the humble village beyond the forest.”

A grating, hollow laughter echoed through the woods, appearing to come from all directions.

“You seek your own doom, traveler.”

“I do not fear the likes of you.” Hongjoong bit back. “Cowards who flaunt your magic, who use it to oppress those weaker than you.”

“Cowards?” The voice lilted in amusement. “Such a brave, foolish knight. If you wish to meet a valiant end at our hands, we will not deny you.”

The trees rustled as though a great wind had blown through, though the air was entirely still. After another moment, a massive beast stepped forth from the darkness, its fur glistening silver-gray in the sunlight. It was not unlike a wolf in its shape, though it was much taller, its back reaching the highest branches of the trees. Its face was also covered in bonelike armor, with huge antlers jutting out from its skull.

“Turn back now, and we will call off our pet.” The voice drawled.

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on his sword, but his left foot slid back slightly, and he found himself looking to Seonghwa.

The dragon lowered his hood, stepping up to his side. Hongjoong’s resolve strengthened tenfold.

“We respectfully decline your offer.” The knight quipped.

The beast lowered down on its haunches and roared, long and loud.

Hongjoong startled, though his stance did not falter. Seonghwa, however, did not so much as flinch.

He spoke in the draconic tongue, a short and simple phrase that despite its brevity held an air of command that made even the trees tremble. From within them, several smaller creatures descended to scurry and flit to his side, paying little mind to the great beast which clearly posed such a threat to them. Hongjoong watched in fascination and confusion.

Seonghwa cocked his head in interest, then released the spell. The animals scattered, screeching in fear as they ran for their lives.

“It appears your will cannot be bent.” The dragon said slowly, his eyes raking over the beast. “Or is it simply that you possess no will at all?”

“Turn back or you shall suffer our wrath!” That same voice from before bellowed, though there was a certain edge of something like fear within it.

Seonghwa pointedly ignored him in favor of reciting another draconic incantation. The beast leapt away from the cyclone which whipped through the air toward it, but Seonghwa had seen all he had needed to. The beast had no true form, no substance, no shadow. It was nothing but a conjuration.

“You have been terrorizing and exploiting those villagers with nothing more than illusions and minor cantrips.” Seonghwa said, his tone marred with disgust.

Finally, several robed forms ebbed forth from the treeline.

“Our beasts may not be flesh and blood, but our power is quite real! These are more than _cantrips!”_ The man at the center snarled, raising his staff and focusing magical energy at the tip of it. The robed figures formed mage armor upon themselves before stepping forward, ready to do battle.

Seonghwa murmured something in the draconic tongue, and the men staggered as their magical armor fractured and shattered. The dragon had marked them for death.

His gaze slid to Hongjoong expectantly, but the knight had already leapt into action.

Seonghwa spoke in his native tongue once more.

As Hongjoong closed in on the druids, his blade suddenly felt lighter than air. His strikes fell quicker, aimed truer, flowed in a way that felt more natural than ever before.

He realized all at once just what it was…Seonghwa had imbued him with draconic strength to aid him in battle.

He had heard of the magic in the tales his grandfather would tell, passed down from his father before him and on and on, about the knights who went to war with dragons by their side. The battle fury, they called it: a spell cast by their dragon companions to aid them, to strengthen them.

The two druids nearest Seonghwa ran for him, their hands crackling with dark energy. They had not made it within ten paces of him before Seonghwa pushed them back with an incantation of unrelenting force, knocking them off their feet. A blast of black flame saw to it that they did not rise again.

Hongjoong returned to his side, breathing heavily with his bloodied blade still tight within his grip. The oppressive magic around them had dissipated, leaving only Seonghwa’s own thrumming next to him in a way which had grown so familiar.

They shared a look, a nod, and a smile, and soon turned back toward the forest path to return to the village once more.

The man who had greeted them at the start seemed wary of their claims, but once Seonghwa produced one of the druid’s broken staffs from his cloak, there was little doubt left in him.

Trepidation remained, however, and Seonghwa sensed it long before the man asked, “What will you have in return?”

“We ask for nothing. I was simply doing my duty.” Hongjoong insisted, and Seonghwa merely nodded with a fond smile before they headed off.

Seonghwa conjured a natural, thick fog to settle over the town as they took their leave, and when they had put some distance between them and the village, he returned to his true draconic form. Hongjoong climbed up onto his back, and soon after, they took to the skies.

“How long, do you think, until we receive our signal?” The knight asked, shouting over the wind as it roared past them.

“We’re almost upon the top of the hour…it shouldn’t be long.” Seonghwa replied. Sure enough, less than a minute passed before he spotted a magical signal off in the distance. A spear of ivory light shot up into the air before bursting into an array of golden sparkles. “Ah, precisely on the hour. Our cleric is quite punctual.”

“Then let us not keep them waiting!” Hongjoong said, and Seonghwa nodded his massive head, banking off toward the source of the light.

Travel by air on the dragon’s wing was far faster than the forest roads allowed, even with the fastest royal steeds. Seonghwa and Hongjoong managed to catch up to the others rather quickly, the dragon touching down in a clearing just ahead of them.

“How good of you to rejoin us.” Wooyoung offered in a teasing sort of drawl.

“Well, we couldn’t very well leave you to handle the Order on your own.” Hongjoong replied with a grin, sliding from atop Seonghwa’s back with a practiced sort of ease. The dragon shifted on his haunches before becoming enveloped in smoke and emerging in the form of a man once more.

“And your mission? Were you successful?” Yeosang asked.

Hongjoong nodded. “The druids will terrorize them no longer.”

“Good…good. I am glad.” Yeosang said, though mostly to himself.

Hongjoong swallowed uneasily. “Your Highness, I would…apologize for my behavior earlier. It was not befitting a soldier in your service.”

Yeosang shook his head. “On the contrary. It was in every way befitting a knight…and a dragon rider.”

Hongjoong sputtered. “Ah…I wouldn’t go so far as to—I am but a knight whom Seonghwa has allowed transport on several occasions—”

“What utter nonsense.” Seonghwa piped up from over his shoulder, letting out one of those melodic laughs of his. He grasped Hongjoong’s arm, easily slipping beneath the armor to hold tight to his bicep. “Of course you are a dragon rider.”

Hongjoong balked. “O-oh…I didn’t…think, ah—”

“I suppose you expected a bit more ceremony, hm? Shall I fetch a sword and knight you myself?” Seonghwa teased, chuckling. “I’m afraid there is no such fanfare to it. Unlike the oaths we took to forge alliances with leaders and royals, most dragon riders became such in the heat of battle. There was little time for much else.”

Hongjoong hummed dazedly, appearing overwhelmed. Yeosang looked on in amusement and pride.

“But you are a dragon rider, Sir Hongjoong. The _last_ dragon rider.” Seonghwa told him, smiling.

Hongjoong choked. “T-the…no, I won’t be the _last._ You will surely outlive me, and there will be others. You could find a hundred more riders worthy of you, or a dozen, or even just one…”

“No, I don’t believe I will.” Seonghwa told him softly, squeezing his arm and inclining his head before letting go.

Dragon rider. The _last_ dragon rider. The title sat as a mantle upon Hongjoong’s shoulders, weighing upon him a great burden he never expected.

But it was his duty to carry it, now.

“There is a storm brewing on the horizon.” Wooyoung said suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. “We should make haste.”

A murmur of agreeance rippled through the party. Once Hongjoong mounted his steed and Seonghwa climbed into the carriage, they were off.

Some part of Hongjoong ached to touch the sky once more, but he knew this was an enemy they all needed to face together.

***

The party eventually started to lose the light quickly, storm clouds brewing above them as the afternoon crawled on into early evening. The rain began as a drizzle, but soon became an unforgiving, icy torrent. San raised his shields to mitigate most of it, but keeping them dry was surely a lost cause. The roads transformed into barely-traversable sludge which was slick and muddy, and the magic users among them were soon forced to focus on creating heat sources enough to prevent the others from freezing to death on their feet.

The conditions were not ideal for a stand-off against the Order…or even for making good enough time to head them off, but in their hearts, they knew they had to try regardless of the circumstances.

In the end, it did not even seem to matter.

The heavy rain made it all but impossible to see the stronghold from a distance. They did not know just how close they were until they reached the crest of a hill and were all but upon it. 

Even through the pouring rain, flames roared across the stable roofs and ramparts, most of which were already crumbling under the hail of dragon fire.

San’s prayers had not been answered.

They were too late.

“No…no no _no!”_ Yeosang cried out, scrambling from the caravan.

In the distance, a shrieking roar cut through the air and a burst of flame pierced the sky, destroying the last rampart atop the stronghold’s highest tower. The rain was so thick that the dragon was nothing more than a shadow streaking through the night, all but invisible in the darkness.

Seonghwa stepped up, unclasping his cloak and unfurling his wings.

Hongjoong grabbed his spear in lieu of his sword, making to dismount his horse. “I’ll go with you—”

“No, it is far too dangerous.” Seonghwa insisted, halting him. “Your skill in battle serves more purpose on the ground. You should remain with the others.”

Without allowing further argument, Seonghwa tossed his cloak aside and took off into the air, taking his true form in a flurry of dark, misty magic.

“I will try to reason with them!” He called back before cutting through the air with a powerful beat of his wings.

The others shared a look, Yeosang offering his knight a sympathetic gesture.

“We have no idea how many of them were sent to attack this stronghold, nor how many remain. Be on your guard.” Wooyoung said.

Jongho rolled his shoulders. “Taking down the cultists is critical, but protecting the prince is paramount. We cannot simply wade into the thick of battle when we are entrusted with his and Yunho’s lives.”

San shook his head. “Nothing will get past my shields. You can count on that.”

The company exchanged glances, nodding in confirmation before making their way down the hill.

Hongjoong’s gaze strayed toward the clouds, and he squinted against the rain as he tried to ascertain the situation above them.

Seonghwa was gaining on the other dragon. From his current distance, he could see the shape of the wings and tail, as well as the pattern of the horns crowning the dragon’s head. He could tell that she was female, and based on her coloring, she was likely a brass dragon of the eastern mountains.

“Sister!” He called in the dragon’s tongue as he approached, flying as steadily as he could through the howling winds and pouring rain. “Please, put an end to this! Why do you fight for these heretics? Why do you harm the innocent? Nothing can be gained from—”

Seonghwa’s words evaporated into the air as the dragon turned to him, finally allowing him to look upon her face.

Dark scales gave way to rotted flesh along her snout and the ridge of her brow, exposing the blackened bones beneath. There were no eyes within the sockets of her skull, only the burning energy of the magic holding her broken body together.

She was not alive. She had long since perished.

She had been necromanced to serve the cultists’ whims.

Seonghwa banked off to one side as a blast of flame was loosed toward him. He watched in horror as the flesh of the dragon’s underbelly and neck were burned away by the flame, leaving only her skeleton intact. The flesh and scales sluggishly knit themselves back together, the necromancer’s magic at work.

“Gods, no…what have they done to you?” Seonghwa hissed, twisting midair to avoid another blast of fire. He banked off toward the edge of the encampment, trying to lead the enemy away from the fort, and thus, the rest of the party.

He could not willingly put them in danger.

***

Below them, the rest of the company had charged into the fray. It was evident that they were far too late. There were charred bodies scattered about on the scorched grass, their armor bearing that same symbol as before; a shield surrounding concentric runic circles with eight points.

Hongjoong took his horse further out to the edge of the ruined courtyard to look for more survivors, but his search was fruitless. The others remained near the main fortress, at enough of a distance from him that he could barely see them through the sheets of rain. Mingi’s voice cut through, however, clear as a bell, using a spell to send a message with his magic.

“It seems they’ve wiped everyone out.”

“It’s the same here.” Hongjoong responded, knowing the magic would carry his message to the mage. “No sign of the Order.”

“Whatever they wanted was in that stronghold.” Mingi said.

“Then let us turn it inside out, and hope to the gods they left us something this time.” Hongjoong replied, turning his horse around.

He coaxed her into a run, making for the stronghold…but the ground was slick and the rain was a torrent of icy pins fighting them for every step. He did not even see the massive shadow encroaching from above until his companion’s distant screams of warning called his attention. He turned just in time to see the gout of flame hit the ground and rake through the earth only paces from him.

His horse whinnied and bucked up just as the flames assailed them, the force of the blast so great that it kicked up rock and debris and sent the knight and his steed both flying. The world spun, the very ground beneath him upheaved and all he could feel was heat, _heat,_ and then nothing but the cold darkness as he hit the ground. 

Hongjoong only lost himself for a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime.

He could hear someone calling his name…distant, like the echoes of a dream he was trying desperately to cling to while he was waking. The rain came back to him first, like icy needles across his face. He blinked open his eyes but struggled to keep them open against the torrential downpour. He tried to move, try to get his bearings, but he couldn’t budge his left leg at all. He grabbed at the ground, trying to pull himself upright, but his hands slipped through the mud uselessly.

He moved his arm down, realizing his saddle was still beneath him. He was still on his horse. 

Hongjoong wiped the rain from his face, uselessly, and knocked his hand across his saddle, kicking his right leg in the stirrup. “C’mon girl, c’mon! Get up!”

But the weight upon him was still as stone. He finally wrenched himself upward, and even through the pouring rain, he could see his horse’s white coat was stained vermillion, the flesh of her hind legs ruined and burned nearly down to the bone. 

“N-no…no…” Hongjoong whimpered, desperately clawing at the mud again, trying to get himself out from under her weight. Her eyes were open, but she hadn’t moved at all.

“Sir Hongjoong!” The voice was next to him, then. It was Jongho. He felt someone’s arms encircle his chest as the mercenary grabbed beneath the saddle and lifted at the same time as someone else hauled him out from beneath the beast’s weight. His savior slipped in the mud and ended up on his ass, though he kept his grip on Hongjoong.

“Are you hurt?” The man beneath him asked. Wooyoung.

Hongjoong shook his head. His leg ached but it wasn’t broken. He’d feel that. Somehow, not a single bit of him had gotten burned. The blast had only caught the tail end of his horse, and spared him a painful death. His steed had not been so lucky.

“I’m sorry, old girl.” Hongjoong murmured brokenly, stroking his fingers gently down her bloody muzzle.

Jongho’s hand trembled as he placed it on the knight’s shoulder. “We have to move, Sir Hongjoong, the dragon is still—”

Ivory light burst forth above them in geometric shapes edged in gold at the same time the enemy dragon strafed by again with Seonghwa in pursuit. The gout of flame erupted and dispersed across the magical shield above them just as Seonghwa caught up, chasing the other dragon back up into the sky.

San flinched and allowed his barrier to dissipate for the moment. “We can’t stay here!”

“We have to find the Order, or this was all for nothing!” Yeosang shouted.

“We might be too late!” Yunho reasoned. “They may have already gone!”

“That doesn’t make sense!” Hongjoong protested. “If they’ve gone, why did the dragon remain?”

“Ensuring there were no survivors?” Wooyoung suggested gravely.

They shared a doubtful look. There was only a brief interlude of silence before Mingi and San both snapped to attention, their gazes drawn to the fort.

“You felt that—?”

“A huge surge of magic!” Mingi confirmed.

“They’re still here!” San replied, and the two of them shared a look before bolting toward the fort, the others following.

Hongjoong was still feeling rattled and dazed but he managed to keep up, arriving just behind Jongho as they reached the main door. There was a strange haze over it, however, and when they attempted to open it, the Order’s magic repelled them.

“Damn it, they’ve sealed the entrances!” Mingi hissed.

“Can you dispel it?” Yeosang asked.

“Maybe.” Mingi admitted. “But if I can, it’ll take me a while”

“I’ll be quicker.” Wooyoung grunted, leaping up onto the stone face of the fort. He seemed to struggle with the slick rock hindering his grip, but he managed to scale the wall to a window quite a ways up the side. The moment he attempted to duck inside, however, he found it to be sealed with the same magic as the doorway. He spat a curse and slammed the side of his fist against the stone in frustration.

“They’re thorough.” Mingi commented as Wooyoung begrudgingly made his way back down to the others. “I’m not sure I could break this seal without disastrous consequences.”

“How disastrous?” Yeosang asked warily.

“I would wager anything from causing the entire fort to collapse to inflicting anyone who attempted to break the seal with a horrific blight.” Mingi explained. “This cult is sinister. I would not put either past them.”

“Do not risk yourself.” Yeosang said, gesturing for him to back off.

“What will we do, then?” Yunho murmured softly, the hope draining out of him.

“Seonghwa would likely have better luck.” Mingi replied. “His magic is far more powerful than mine or San’s.”

“Seonghwa is rather busy at the moment.” Hongjoong responded in a wry tone. His eyes were on the sky, and the others raised their gazes as well.

The dragons were dancing around each other in the sky amid the wind and rain, Seonghwa skillfully dodging the brass dragon’s attacks. He had hesitated to fight back as hard as he could, but it had put the others at risk already. He knew he could not cling to any hope of saving her…that there was nothing left of her. This body was merely a husk, puppeted by the will of another.

He steeled his resolve, though he knew it would be agony to destroy one of his own, even if it was a mere shadow of a dragon’s true form. Finally, he dipped through the air and looped back, loosing a blast of black fire directly at the approaching dragon.

But she did not stop.

She did not attempt to dodge at all, instead flying directly through the flames and appearing to care little for the damage it caused her body. She had a singular task: destroy the enemy. She crashed full-force into Seonghwa, tackling him midair. The claws of their hindlimbs locked together, wrestling for dominance as their forelimbs lashed out for purchase.

Seonghwa howled as jagged claws dug into his shoulder, rending flesh and scale beneath them. He snarled as he turned and snapped his jaws, locking them tightly around the other dragon’s neck as his own claws gripped at the joints of her wings, taking away her control in the air. She thrashed and loosed a blast of fire, which spouted uselessly into the air above them. When her captor did not relinquish his grip, the brass dragon’s tail whipped around, slashing at his wings.

Seonghwa whispered a muffled apology in the draconic tongue and closed his eyes before wrenching his claws in opposing directions. A sickening crack resounded as the brass dragon’s wings were broken, though her responding shriek was less one of pain and more that of fury. Her tail still thrashed about, eventually finding its mark: the sharp, bony spines buried themselves into the joint of Seonghwa’s right wing.

The black dragon roared in pain as his wing buckled, sending the both of them hurtling toward the ground. He desperately pivoted them midair to alter their trajectory away from the humans below, sending them careening into the stables just outside the fort. The weak wooden structure collapsed beneath their weight, debris scattering as the two of them wrestled, their tails and wings whipping wildly in the chaos.

The brass dragon let out a shrill scream, her chest brightening as she prepared her fire again. Seonghwa gave a regretful whine as he clenched his jaw tighter and yanked, tearing out a section of her throat. Flames poured uselessly from the wound as she breathed them out, only a few managing to spew from her jaws.

“What the hell’s going on over there?” Jongho asked, squinting through the pouring rain.

“There’s…there’s something wrong!” Yunho called back, dread bleeding into his voice.

“That other dragon…” Yeosang murmured, sounding shaken.

When dragon flame lit up the darkness, they could see the dragon for what she was: a corpse.

“By the gods…” San trailed off, horrified. “What unholy magic—”

“Necromancy.” Mingi gasped, finally realizing. “This is…an abomination. An affront to nature, it should not even have been possible—”

“It was never another living dragon.” Hongjoong spoke up, the weight of the realization dawning on them all. “There was never…it was but a puppeted corpse.”

Behind them, the magic locking the fort down from within rippled, then evaporated.

“The forcefield…” Yunho murmured.

“The cultists must have gotten whatever they came for.” Mingi gritted out. “I can’t sense their magic at all anymore.”

Jongho let out a sigh of frustration. “What do we—”

He cut off abruptly when the enemy dragon shrieked, writhing beneath Seonghwa’s grip. He loosed a blast of ebony fire upon her, and she stilled once more.

“They can’t have gone far, if they still have control of the spell they cast on the dragon, right?” Yeosang reasoned.

“This is magic the likes of which I have never seen before…to necromance a dragon was thought to be impossible. I cannot say what the limitations of this spell are.” Mingi replied. “They could be halfway across the continent and still maintain control, for all we know of this kind of magic.”

Yeosang sighed in frustration, startling when the fallen dragon shrieked again.

“San!” Seonghwa called in a broken, desperate tone before he was forced to loose another blast of fire to keep the enemy dragon at bay.

Her throat gurgled with a useless attempt to attack with her own fire as her body began stitching itself back together, more sluggish than before. San was afraid, but he sprinted over regardless, his feet slipping through the mud in his haste.

Seonghwa let out an anguished breath, staccato with stifled sobs as he nuzzled his face beneath the other dragon’s neck.

“I’m here, Seonghwa.” San spoke up, his voice so, so small. He could see the wounds along Seonghwa’s scales, blood streaming down his forelegs and tangling in his claws.

“Please.” The dragon said with a pained wheeze. “I cannot—I can only keep her at bay. Only you can end this.”

“Shall I…deliver the last rites?” San asked softly.

“Sh-she is not here.” Seonghwa told him, his voice shaking. “Her spirit h-has long been with the stars. Please…free her body from this wretched desecration.”

“I…” San did not know what to say. There were not words for such a thing. No scripture, no proverb, no eulogy would suffice. He simply nodded, moving to stand next to him. He laid a hand over Seonghwa’s wounded shoulder, his other hand resting upon the dragon’s corpse.

The cleric pushed healing energy through both of his palms. The same magic which mended Seonghwa’s wounds beneath his touch also caused the necromanced corpse to wither away to ash…first its rotted flesh, then its brittle bones, and finally, that fiery energy which took the place of the dragon’s soul, which controlled its body to be the slave of another’s whims.

San did not even realize he was murmuring a prayer for the dragon until he heard Seonghwa speak in tandem, his voice low and broken as he repeated a prayer of his own in the draconic tongue.

When he finally pulled back, Seonghwa’s wound was healed and what remained of the undead dragon was lost to the winds.

Black mist ebbed around Seonghwa, obscuring his form, and when it faded away, he had returned to his human glamour once more. He remained there, knelt upon the floor, watching the ashes of the last of his kin as they were swept away by the breeze. With it went any hope that he was not, in fact, the last dragon.

He truly was alone.

Tears streamed down his face, his body shuddering under the strain of his emotions. He had mourned them once before, a century ago. Somehow, it was more painful now than it had been then. To be given hope, only to have it ripped away…to be shown _this_ atrocity, this profane perversion of magic, to see his kin defiled in this way…it was agony.

San backed away, clearly holding back tears of his own. His voice was low as he spoke in a hushed whisper to the others. “We still don’t know what the cultists were doing here, other than wreaking havoc.”

“You all…go check the fort records, the vaults…look for any evidence you can find. Surely they were after something more than just destruction.” Hongjoong said, inclining his head toward Seonghwa. “I’ll remain with him.”

Yeosang nodded, motioning for the others to follow him into the fort, Mingi snuffing out the worst of the fires as they went, though the rain had prevented them from spreading too far.

Once they were out of sight, Hongjoong turned to the dragon. His shoulders were still shaking, his every breath trembling beneath the weight of his sorrow. He crossed the distance between them, reaching out but not knowing what to do, or even what to say.

“Seonghwa…” He murmured, heartbroken. He circled around to kneel in front of him, taking one of the dragon’s hands into his own. “I am so sorry, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa did not look at him. His gaze was so far away, perhaps a hundred or even a thousand years beyond what he could comprehend. Haunted. Broken.

“I am…alone.” Seonghwa hissed, the truth of it burning like acid in his throat. “I have been alone for so long, I had never even dared to dream otherwise. But gifted with that one shining moment of hope…to be given that, and to have it lead me to _this—”_

Seonghwa broke again, his shoulders shaking as his breath caught on a sob.

Hongjoong would never be certain what came over him in that moment, only that he saw someone in pain, someone in need of comfort.

He closed what little distance remained between them, pulling Seonghwa into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, pained. “I am sorry that we dragged you from your home, that we gave you hope when there was none, that we pulled you into the thick of a battle you had no stake in—”

“No, that…I do not believe that.” Seonghwa murmured, shaking his head. “I was meant to join you. I was meant to discover that the cult responsible for the annihilation of the dragons still survives. I was meant to ensure they are scrubbed from the earth, and their terrible blight along with them.” 

“We will.” Hongjoong promised. “We will wipe every speck of their presence from the world…they will pay for all they have done. I swear it. I swear it on my honor as a knight.”

“Thank you, Sir Hongjoong. It means more to me than you will ever know.” Seonghwa whispered.

They sat there for several breaths of a moment in silence, with only the sound of the pouring rain surrounding them. After a little while, Seonghwa huffed a mirthless laugh against Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“What is it?” The knight asked gently.

Seonghwa let out a trembling breath. “Would you…believe me if I told you that this is the first time anyone has ever…held me?”

Hongjoong blinked. “No one? Ever? Not in a thousand years?”

“I am far older than that.” Seonghwa whispered, chuckling softly. “But, no. Never, in all that time.”

“O-oh.” Hongjoong’s grip loosened, and he made to pull away with another apology on his tongue, but Seonghwa held fast, pulling him back in.

“No!” He protested vehemently. “If…if I may have you in this way, just a moment longer? Please.”

Hongjoong released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and tightened his grip on the other once more. “Of course. I’m here.”

“She nearly killed you.” Seonghwa whispered, a certain horror to the harshness of it. “And your horse, she was so beloved to you…”

“I know.” Hongjoong said, his voice cracking. “She died with honor. She died a knight’s death.”

“And what if it had been you?” Seonghwa murmured.

“It wasn’t.” Hongjoong reminded him. “I’m still here. And so long as I am, you…you aren’t alone, Seonghwa. You aren’t alone.”

Seonghwa wept, but he wept in the arms of another, and though he was the last of his kind—well and truly the last—he could still take comfort in the company and kindness of this valiant knight.

***

The fort was nearly identical to the previous one they had investigated.

The rooms were perhaps laid out in a different manner, but the lowest chamber was precisely the same: a pedestal upon a stone dais with a strange divot carved into the center. Bodies lay strewn across the floor with the same careless disregard as they’d seen before.

It was heart-rending to know that this time, they had only been minutes too late to save them.

Yeosang jolted, nearly leaping out of his skin when a nearby corpse fell over.

“Easy, Your Highness.” Jongho quelled, moving to his side. “You’ve nothing to fear so long as I still stand.”

Yeosang nodded, but Wooyoung could not help rolling his eyes as he looked between the two of them.

Despite having arrived during the assault, they seemed to have nothing more to show for it than the last time. Other than having eliminated the undead dragon, which hardly felt as a victory given the circumstances.

“Have you found anything?”

San screamed, raising his shields and whipping around only to realize it was Hongjoong, followed closely by Seonghwa.

“By the gods!” San hissed, letting out a calming breath and lowering his hands. “Warn us first if you plan to sneak up on us again, lest you want to end up blasted through a wall or cleaved in two.”

“Sorry.” Hongjoong muttered, making his way into the room with Seonghwa just behind him.

“We followed the evidence down here.” Wooyoung explained. “It’s just like the last stronghold. The cultists left a trail of bodies in their wake. But whatever they were after, it seems to have been in this chamber.”

“Just as before.” Seonghwa murmured, glancing around the room.

“They leave us with more mysteries, more dead ends.” San huffed.

“More death and destruction.” Seonghwa added softly, crossing to the far corner to look over the ruined bookshelves.

“They’re too many steps ahead of us. I feel as though we will never be enough to stop them on our own.” Mingi said.

“If we had even an _inkling_ of what they were doing here, maybe we could—I don’t know.” Jongho grumbled, sighing in frustration. “Whatever they wanted, it was in this room. I know it. The last fort was just the same.”

“We only just missed them—if we could have just broken that barrier…” San murmured, crestfallen.

“The cultists were still here when we arrived?” Seonghwa asked.

“Yes. They had placed a powerful barrier spell on the fort, and we felt magic surge from within. Then they vanished…just after you fell from the sky.” San clarified.

“I see.” Seonghwa mumbled, walking in an arc around the room. “They were long gone from the last fort, but perhaps there is some echo of their magic still lingering here.”

He knelt in front of the entrance door, placing his palm on the floor. As he spoke in the draconic tongue, faint amethyst runes began to glow along the floor. Eventually, they bled up into the air, building and building until they formed shapes around the bodies strewn about. Seonghwa stood up and stepped forward.

“The magic only lingers for so long. Watch carefully, as I may only be able to reveal the echoes once.” He said.

“What echoes? And what do you mean only once?” Hongjoong asked, but then, he was stunned to silence.

The runes did more than cover the space. They shifted and stacked upon each other like brick and mortar, up and up and up, until they were no longer simply a layer of magic upon each surface. They ebbed and flowed through the area, playing out the events of the room over the last several minutes in reverse.

Three figures clad in the Order’s raiment appeared out of thin air, though their forms were made up entirely by the runes. Their sudden appearance startled San, who yelped and ducked behind Wooyoung. The mercenary automatically brandished his daggers toward the perceived threat…at least until he could confirm they were no threat at all.

They all watched as the runes danced across the room, showing them exactly how the attack had unfolded. None watched so carefully as Seonghwa, whose gaze was locked upon the echoes of the Order cultists as they moved. Two of them were responsible for the deaths of the mages in the room, but one of them appeared singularly-focused on the dais at the center of the space.

Seonghwa moved closer to get a better look. Through the runes, he could see there had once been something resting in the divot of the platform: some small item, which looked to be only a piece of some larger object. It was hard to discern just what it was made of, but judging by the sharp points and crisp arc of it, he guessed it was some kind of metal.

The runes began to fade as the echoes grew weaker, dimming further and further until they had disappeared altogether.

“Whatever they were after…they have it.” Jongho said, breaking the silence in the room.

“It almost seemed a…fragment of something.” Yeosang murmured thoughtfully. “If the other strongholds held similar ones…”

“They likely have pieced together whatever it was.” Mingi finished for him.

“Wait.” Yunho hissed, standing bolt upright and rushing over to the dais. The divot in the platform was slightly worn away, but it still held its basic shape. “It’s the symbol.”

The others looked on in confusion, scrunching their brows.

Yunho let out a huff, running over to the desk in the corner to borrow some parchment and charcoal. He returned to the dais and laid the paper over the divot, shading over it with the charcoal. He then drew out the rest of the shape.

It was a perfect match to the eight-pointed symbol worn by those assigned to the stronghold.

“Some kind of object in the shape of their crest?” Hongjoong questioned.

“Could it be a…reliquary of some kind? Or a key?” San asked. “Something to channel magic through? Or a source of great power, forgotten to time?”

“This symbol, I feel as though I’ve seen it before…” Yunho muttered almost to himself, his face contorting a little in thought as he stared at the paper. “I know I have, _where_ have I seen it before…?”

Yeosang cleared his throat. “Not to apply undue pressure, Yunho—”

“It’s hardly _undue—!”_ Wooyoung interrupted.

“That isn’t going to help him!” San reasoned.

“I know what might.” Mingi spoke up. “The mages…they have a technique for recalling repressed memories. Sometimes a spell goes wrong or a potion is made incorrectly and it can hinder memories, but they cannot be erased, so they developed a way to bring them back.”

“Well, go on then! Blast him with whatever spell you have to!” Wooyoung said.

“It isn’t a spell. It isn’t magic at all.” Mingi corrected, rolling his eyes. He grabbed Yunho’s hands and pulled him over to sit with him on the stone dais, face to face. “Yunho, I need you to close your eyes, and focus only on the sound of my voice.”

Yunho gulped, nodding and closing his eyes warily. “A-all right…”

“For gods’ sake…” Wooyoung grumbled, storming off toward the door. San squawked in protest, yanking him back inside. He didn’t fight the cleric, merely pulling his arm away and huffing before going to stand in the far corner with his arms crossed over his chest.

Jongho, Hongjoong and Yeosang shared a look, but it appeared that Seonghwa was not paying them any mind.

“Now, Yunho. I want you to think about the symbol. Picture it in your thoughts.” Mingi said. “What does it bring to mind?”

“Frustration.” Yunho admitted freely. “Curiosity.”

“We need to go deeper than that.” Mingi told him. “When you think of that symbol, what do you smell? What do you taste?”

Yunho frowned, thinking for a moment. “C-cinders, and ash. Burning—everything, burning.”

“Before that.” Mingi continued in a soothing voice. “Before you saw it at the first fort. When you saw it there, what were you reminded of?”

“The—the smell of parchment. Old books. Dust.” Yunho blurted out.

“All right, good. What did you feel? Turning a crisp page beneath your fingertips? Perhaps just the cover of a worn leather book?” Mingi pressed.

“N-no, it wasn’t…it wasn’t in a book, I hardly ever read, I haven’t the time, I—” Yunho petered off, sighing in frustration.

“It’s all right, let’s go back, then. What _do_ you feel?” Mingi tried again.

“I…s-stone. Old, old stone.”

“As we find here?” Mingi asked.

Yunho’s brow scrunched up. “Yes, and no. The stone is…rough with disuse. It isn’t worn smooth as it is here. There’s so much dust…and silt. The floor is covered in a layer of sand.”

“That hardly sounds like the palace library.” Yeosang murmured to Jongho, whose brow furrowed in response.

“What else, Yunho?” Mingi coaxed.

“Chaos. There is no order to the room. There are trinkets and treasures scattered haphazardly. Not organized as the library and archives are.” Yunho continued. “I want to hide under a table, but there’s a pile of books beneath it. And then—one of the magisters catches me skulking around and drags me away.”

“The symbol, Yunho, where did you see it? On one of the trinkets? On a shield or banner?” Mingi asked, watching as Yunho tried to grasp at that faraway memory before it slipped away from him entirely.

“I—no, I can’t…” He sighed, opening his eyes and running a hand through his hair with perhaps too much force. “I’m sorry, I just—”

Yunho froze, his eyes settling across the room. They went hazy with the fog of memory for just the briefest of moments before shining once again with clarity as he let out a startled gasp.

“Oh gods—oh no—I know, I know where I have seen the symbol before.”

“Out with it, then, Yunho!” Yeosang hissed.

“I was but a boy at the time, as were you, Highness. We were—there was a game, we were playing a game. I went to hide somewhere secret, somewhere I wasn’t meant to go. The—the vaults, beneath the palace. _Beyond_ the archives. There was a door, hidden past the storage cellars…a door which bore a void in the shape of _this_ symbol.” Yunho said, his hands trembling as he pointed toward it. “There is hardly record of it now, but the palace was built upon an ancient ruin; a druidic sanctum long since lost to time. That doorway must be all that is left still visible of the original temple.”

The look of eager anticipation slid from Mingi’s face, replaced by dawning horror.

“If the cultists were doing all of this to reassemble some… _enchanted key_ to unlock that door…” Wooyoung murmured, trailing off.

Yeosang’s eyes went wide. “Then they will be heading for the palace!”

They all knew just what that would mean.

The utter destruction these cultists had left in their wake…if they were to make for Yeosang’s home, then the entire kingdom was in danger.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twt and CC @VermillionVamp


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